


The Jon Con

by TiredRazzberry



Series: Modern Westeros AU [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bi-curious Ned Stark, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Angst, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Male-Female Friendship, Matchmaking, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Multiple, Period Typical Attitudes, Relationship Discussions, The 80s AU, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, does not happen to any character, in-universe media, matchmaking gone wrong, rather in a movie they're watching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9275837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredRazzberry/pseuds/TiredRazzberry
Summary: "Harren University was the perfect storm of the wrong people at the wrong time making bad decisions, and it was the most of fun many of them would have in their entire lives. Jon had never had any fun, though, and that was just sad. Unfair, frankly speaking. He didn't even make the same bad decisions as everyone else. He just had shit luck. First, getting hung up over Rhaegar untouchable Targaryen for three years. Then…Jon thought he had finally started to have fun this past year, to be happy in a real relationship, but that had all been some sick joke. Either the Universe’s or Ned fucking Stark’s."---When he was nineteen years old, thanks in no small part to the meddling of two well-meaning Dornishwomen, Ned Stark ended up dating none other than Jon Connington. Family, friends, and fellow students react with shock, disgust, love, and support in equal measure. Thing was, Ned didn't even realize they were dating until they broke up.





	1. Jon Connington I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to George R. R. Martin.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks out from graduation...
> 
> Jon "Griff" Connington - Age 22/Early Childhood Education Major  
> Myles Mooton - Age 22/Marketing Major  
> Richard Lonmonth - Age 22/Comparative Religious Studies Major

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work was beta-ed by the lovely Veridissma. Thanks, Jo! 
> 
> You should really check her out here on AO3, she writes some really great asoiaf modern au!

In the end, it was all the fault of meddling Dornishwomen. _Everything_ was _always_ the fault of a meddling Dornishwoman, Jon thought sourly. He knocked back his sixth shot of whiskey and sank even lower in his chair. He went to pour himself another.

Myles Mooton, the bastard, leaned across the table and swiped the bottle right from his hand. “You’ve had enough, Connington.”

“Nope.” Jon popped the word. “I still have feelings. Hand it over.”

Jon’s fingers only just grazed the sweet, cold glass before Myles passed the bottle to Richard Lonmouth standing behind him. Jon narrowed his eyes. He would have sat up, too, but he was feeling just that petulant.

“Dick.” He hissed.

Richard rolled his eyes and said to Myles, “I can’t tell if he’s calling me names or trying to sweet-talk me. Speaks volumes about his personality, doesn’t it?”

Jon flicked a peanut shell at him, hitting the whiskey-stealing dick square in the face.

Richard sighed, perfectly imitating an exasperated parent. “All right then, no booze for you.” He declared, setting the whiskey bottle on the tray of a passing server. “Let’s get you home.”

Jon folded his arms on the table and hid his face like he was five and overtired. “I don’t want to.”

“You’re wasted.” Myles pointed out helpfully. “You’re boneless, you look like you’re about ready to slide off that chair.”

“I don’t want to.”

"I bet you don't. The floor is super sticky with who knows what. Let's go, buddy."

"I _don't want to_."

“We have been here for hours. For _your_ sake. Do you think me and Myles like hanging out at gay bars, not drinking or dancing even, but instead sitting in a dark corner watching you wallow in self-pity?” Richard asked.

Jon refused to answer; it was a dumb rhetorical question, anyways. He heard Myles sigh, and a moment later he was being heaved up by his armpits. Jon let himself become dead weight. He wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

It was easy for them. In his depressed alcoholic daze, Jon had forgotten that both Myles and Richard were damn fit. They dragged him out of the bar, across the parking lot, and heaved him into the backseat of Richard’s car with ease.

“Puke and you walk to campus for the rest of the semester.” Richard warned.

Jon nearly puked right then and there at the thought of school. He dreaded going to class tomorrow enough as it stood. Why make him think of the rest of the month? His face, already flush from a night of hard liquor, burned with embarrassment. _The whole university must know by now_ , Jon thought and he felt like such a massive fool that he wanted to punch a brick wall for an excuse to cry.

More than a brick wall, he wanted to punch in Eddard Stark’s stupid plain face. He wanted to punch Eddard Stark as hard as he could, scream his lungs out at him, and Ashara Dayne, too, and graduate already so he would never have to look at them or Elia Martell or anyone at this university ever again. Even if it meant taking some dumb desk job for a company in Essos so he could avoid everyone until the end of days. 

Everyone went to Harren University. At least it seemed that way. It wasn’t the oldest school in the United Kingdom of Westeros, nor the most prestigious, or even all that good of a school, but they were infamous for letting in just about anyone who could cut a check and being Westeros’ #1 party school (though that title was accompanied by a fair number of alcohol-fueled tragedies and scandals in the school’s past). So even though each region had a handful of universities to cater to its population, and there was no shortage of trade schools, and there were big universities like Crownland University and the Hightower Technical Institute to compete against, every student in Westeros had Harren University on the short list for schools they applied to.

Harren University was the perfect storm of the wrong people at the wrong time making bad decisions, and it was the most of fun many of them would have in their entire lives. Jon had never had any fun, though, and that was just sad. Unfair, frankly speaking. He didn't even make the same bad decisions as everyone else. He just had shit luck. First, getting hung up on Rhaegar untouchable Targaryen for three years. Then…Jon thought he had finally started to have fun this past year, being happy in a real relationship, but that had all been some sick joke. Either the Universe’s or Ned fucking Stark’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will become more comedic and cute I promise, but yeah, I didn't want anyone under any illusions about the situation being funny and cute for Jon in the aftermath. Don't worry, though. Things will work out in the end.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos!!!!


	2. Ashara Dayne I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks into the new semester...
> 
> Ashara - Age 22/Astronomy & Astrophysics Major  
> Elia - Age 26/Medical Resident  
> Rhaegar - Age 24/Musician

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to George R. R. Martin.

Elia graduated a whole year before Ashara. It had been tragic; the whole sorority mourned the loss of their president. Sure, they had gotten to keep her a whole extra four years thanks to Med school, but it was painful to watch her pack up her room at the end of her last semester. She was off to bigger and better things, saving lives and such, leaving them to rot with their overpriced textbooks and red solo cups.

Elia, however, in her infinite loveliness deigned to do her residency at the hospital in Harroway's Town not twenty minutes off campus. In doing so, she had all but signed a contract permitting Ashara and any of the other sorority girls to crash on her couch whenever; Ashara didn't make the rules. 

She just wished the catch wasn't being privy every detail of Elia's relationship with Rhaegar I-do-car-commercials-in-Volantis Targaryen. 

Ashara awoke that morning--afternoon, borderline evening, what-have-you--to Elia in a hushed phone conversation. Ashara caught the words 'dinner' and 'parents' and 'slam poetry', the latter of which was as good as hearing Rhaegar's name. She rolled her eyes and wriggled onto her side on the couch so she could hide her face from the bright sunlight seeping through Elia's silky curtains. _When did Rhaegar become my alarm clock_ , Ashara wondered. 

Last weekend, when Ashara was nursing a hangover on Elia's couch, Rhaegar swung by to practice his coffee shop poetry weirdo routine. Which was actually the usual for him, Ashara had noticed over the many months of courtship. He read Elia some poetry-- _good_ poetry, but dense with purple prose and imagery rooted in ancient philosophy and mythology; he sounded way too happy with himself when either Ashara or Elia had to stop and ask him what the Seven Hells a certain line even vaguely meant--before breaking out his guitar and strumming random notes for next two hours while Elia padded from one end of the apartment to the other doing chores. They hardly talked, and maybe that was a good thing, the fabled "comfortable silence" of great relationships, but somehow Ashara wasn't so sure. 

More often than not, Ashara was not at the apartment at the same time as Rhaegar. She overheard a lot more of their phone calls than their in-person conversations. Elia never used cutsie endearments, or giggled girlishly, or even blushed at whatever Rhaegar was saying. Not once did she even twirl her finger in the cord of the phone. Ashara used to wonder if they were dialing it back for her sake, but a lot of times they were on the phone Elia had thought Ashara was still conked out on the couch. Before long, Ashara realized that Elia made dinner plans with Rhaegar in the same tone of voice that she ordered takeout. 

Elia wished Rhaegar a too-curt goodbye and hang up the phone. Ashara heard her pad across the room and sensed her looming over the couch. 

"Is the butterfly ready to emerge from her cocoon?" Elia teased. She prodded Ashara's blanket-burrito-wrapped bum. 

Ashara groaned and let herself roll free of the blankets onto the living room floor. 

Elia _tsked_  in disappointment. "Appears not. Looks like you're still a hungry caterpillar." She stuck out a hand. "Let's get you fed." 

Ashara grabbed Elia's hand and instead of hauling herself up to her feet, she pulled Elia down to the carpet with her. A wrestling-match ensued. 

"W-Why do I put up with you?" Elia gasped as she batted away Ashara's hands reaching for her armpits. Her only weakness. Exempting asthma, periodic respiratory infections, shit eyesight, and poor digestion. 

"Because I give you an excuse to make greasy food and give yourself a stomach ache every weekend." Ashara exclaimed, seizing Elia's wrists and pinning them above her head with one hand and tickling her mercilessly with the other. 

She released Elia when she started coughing, and grabbed her inhaler from the coffee table. Elia took a hit and smirked evilly up at Ashara. "You know, I've been meaning to lose weight." 

Ashara gave her shoulder a shove. "How? By sawing off a limb? Come on, feed me already." 

They sat down to eat at the little table out on Elia's balcony, watching boats on the river. It was getting dark and some of them had their fairy lights turned on. People danced on the decks of the party boats, a sign that four years of winter was coming to an end. They had thought it was over last year, until a last-minute frost settled in. Ashara remembered passing truck after truck out of the Salt Pans carrying salt to restock municipalities across the country on the freeway. And yet the roads between Harroway's Town and Harren University remained so icy that the school figure skating team could have practiced on them...Ashara hoped for an outdoor graduation. Hopefully when the semester ended in five months, it would be warm enough. 

"I heard you on the phone with Rhaegar." Ashara remarked. "Your parents getting dragged to his next slam poetry night? You know, I don't think Oberyn has forgiven you yet for dragging him to one. To be honest, I haven't either." 

Elia grimaced around the bacon strip in her mouth. "Oberyn likes poetry. I thought it might get him to warm up to Rhaegar." 

In Ashara's experience, there was no warming to Rhaegar Targaryen. You either loved him immediately and were ready to go to war for the guy, or you hated him and each one of his perfect 32 teeth individually. The guy could either do no wrong, or even his good deeds made you sick to your stomach. 

"The answer is no, anyways. It's a good thing you aren't in school to become a spy. Rhaegar and I weren't making plans, we were discussing what happened last night." 

"Hm?" Ashara's first instinct as the student of a predominant party school was to assume that things had gone south at a party. Presumably one hosted by a fraternity. But Rhaegar had graduated last year, and hadn't really partied when even he was in school. 

"It all really started Friday night. Jon Connington's parents came to visit him this weekend and they went out to dinner. They ended up having a huge blowup at the restaurant and Jon's parents headed home Saturday morning. Jon spent yesterday avoiding everyone until he showed up at slam poetry night at that little coffee shop Rhaegar likes so much." 

"The one stacked to the rafters with moldy books and chalkboards everywhere?" 

"That's the one." 

"Question, why do you have to date someone so... _that_?"

"Stop being prejudicial and listen. After Rhaegar's poem, Jon asked to step out of the shop and...came out to him." 

Ashara fished her jaw off the floor. "Came out of the shop or _came out of the big ole gay closet_?" 

"The guy has been giving me dirty looks since Day One, what do you think? Jon Connington is gay and in love with Rhaegar." 

"Seven above! It all makes sense now." His inexplicable hatred of Elia. The strange possessiveness of Rhaegar's time and attention that surpassed that of Rhaegar's other friends. The praise he heaped on Rhaegar at any opportunity and usually in a very grandiose, poetic manner meant in all seriousness. The lack of girlfriends. The disastrous double-date Elia and Rhaegar goaded them into last year--the worst date Ashara had been on in all her twenty-two years. "How did Rhaegar react?" Ashara demanded. 

Elia cast an exasperated look upon the rest town, as if she could see Rhaegar below, through all the brick and roof tiling, and was thinking about how much of an idiot he could be. "Sadly, he only connected the dots on the first thing, and even that took him a while. To be fair, Jon was freaking out and apparently being infuriatingly cryptic." 

"Good, give him a taste of his own medicine."

Elia sent Ashara a stern look. "Ashara, it's not Rhaegar I'm sad for."

"Oh," Ashara realized. "Poor Jon." To like someone and confide something so huge in them, and for them not to realize what you were really trying to say. That was awful. Then she remembered his parents. "Seven Hells, did he and his parents get in a fight over him being gay?" 

Elia nodded gravely and Ashara cursed the pricks.

"I don't get it! It's not like the Seven-Pointed Star ever said a word about homosexuality, and it's not like we live in a day and age where people are all expected to get married and pop out kids. Why have a problem with it?" 

"Well, to be fair, _yeah_ , Ashara, we kind of are still expected to get married and have kids. Not for alliances or sheep or anything. It's just the social norm. Even my parents make little comments about me and Oberyn settling down someday. And a lot of people don't care if the Seven-Pointed Star ever mentioned homosexuality explicitly. A lot of people think it implicitly condemned it by going on and on about the Father and the Mother this, and the Maiden and the Warrior that. Then you just have the jerks who say it's against the 'natural order'. Whatever that is. I think that's what Jon's parents said, actually. Also something about it being a mistake sending him to an all boys boarding school as a kid." 

"That sounds sick. How can someone talk about their kid like that? Jon doesn't live with them anymore, does he?" 

"No, I think he and some of Rhaegar's other friends rent a house off campus together." 

"And they're cool?"

Elia nodded. "More perceptive than Rhaegar, too. After Jon told Rhaegar, he went home and told Myles and Richard, and then they hauled him off to a gay bar. Rhaegar wanted to come along as moral support, but they wouldn't let him. He doesn't understand why. Its seems Myles and Richard are dragging Jon kicking and screaming onto the market." 

"Dude needs to get over Rhaegar." Ashara agreed. "It can't be good for his mental health." 

"It's certainly not healthy for my relationship." Elia grumbled into her coffee mug. She rounded on Ashara and asked rather forcefully, "Do you know anyone for him?" 

Ashara stopped and went through her mental catalog of classmates and friends, filtering for gay and bisexual men. Results were slim. Olyvar and Raynald were together now. Hugh was adamant about not starting any relationships in his last semester of college since he had a job lined up overseas and refused to do long-distance. Daeron and Connington were more likely to rip each other's throats out than make out with their personalities. It would be awkward to set Connington up with a guy with the same name as him, so there went three guys right there. There was a grad student but Ashara didn't know him all that well. "I don't...well, unless..." Ashara hadn't thought about him until that second. 

"Who?" 

"It's a long-shot." Ashara admitted.

Elia clasped her hands in a pleading gesture. "Please, anyone else would be better than him pining after Rhaegar." 

"He's not even really sure if he likes boys." Ashara argued. 

" _Anyone_ , Ashara." 

Ashara disagreed. She started feeling a bit skeevy. "I don't know..." 

"We have to try. We're all suffering like this. What will it hurt to set up one lousy date?" 

Ashara thought back to her own lousy date with Jon Connington. It hadn't been _traumatizing_. He would forgive her. "I'll talk to my friend about it." 


	3. Ashara Dayne II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday morning, Week 3 of the Semester...
> 
> Ned Stark - Age 19/Journalism Major

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights belong to GRRM.

Ned Stark had to be the youngest of all Ashara's friends. She had met him at the start of her third year at Harren University and his first. Eighteen, peach-fuzzed and still a bit pimply, he had been an absolutely precious baby. The way he hid behind that camera of his only magnified the effect. That was how he caught her eye that first day of classes. 

Ashara had been bemoaning it being Elia's last year in school as they walked across one of Harren University's many quads to their one shared class that semester, a requisite foreign language class at the beginner's level that they had both been putting off for eternity. Elia to the point that she had cajoled the administration into letting her graduate from her undergrad program without it on the condition she would get it done at some point during med school and that Loreza Martell give the school a sizable donation. Almost four years later, Elia was finally getting around to her end of the bargain and the Martell wing of the university library was almost complete.

Ashara and Elia both picked Yi Ti because the Valyrian classes were notoriously over-packed with first years looking for an easy grade. Ashara and Elia preferred something new and challenging. On top of that, Ashara had been interested in studying abroad at the time. 

She had sensed it rather than saw it. Someone watching them. Ashara had stopped in her tracks and scanned the quad; it was always a good idea to be on one's guard, even in broad daylight. She spotted Ned then, across the grass, standing on a bench and taking pictures with a 35mm camera. Not just of Ashara and Elia, but of the steady stream of students trickling through the area from every direction. Ashara found herself approaching him.

"Did you get my good side?" She teased. 

Ned would have dropped the camera then if not for the strap around his neck. He even looked around, like he couldn't fathom that she was talking to _him_. He was checking off every box on the list of adorable nerd traits.  

"I'm not sure," He answered tentatively, holding the camera up again. "Wanna be sure?" 

Ashara and Elia had laughed at the bold line. Ned reddened at the ears, but he smiled like he was proud of himself. They ended up staging a mini-photo-op on the grass, using their class schedules and books as props. The last photo they took, they goaded Ned into posing with them and asked a passerby to take it. Afterwards, Ned admitted he wouldn't be able to use any of them.

"I'm taking a photography class as part of my journalism major, and this morning the professor gave us our first assignment. We're supposed to take a candid photo illustrating the mood of the first week of classes." He explained. "But my brother got on me about making new friends when I came here and then you walked up...I just said what I figured he would say in my situation." 

With those words, Ashara had adopted the boy the same way Elia had adopted her years earlier. Ned had no choice in the matter. 

The thing was, Ned didn't need Ashara the way Ashara needed Elia. In the past year and a half, he had more than proven himself far more responsible than Ashara had been at his age. Ned never needed to be carted home drunk, or forced to sit down and cram for a test, or reminded to eat a proper meal. Ned's only real problem was that he was so used to being the responsible one--for his family, for his friends, for his teachers--that it was hard for him to cut loose and have fun. You could invite the kid to every party on campus and he would go, but there was no guarantee he'd have fun. Even if he drank, he would never have enough to lose himself to the rhythm of the music and forget about taking care of his more thoroughly sloshed friends.

Not to mention how cold he could come off, being so serious all the time. Elia and Ashara had been lucky enough to catch him off guard, shattering that icy exterior before it had a chance to harden in anticipation of the worst possible outcome of a stranger's approach. On a day to day basis, Ned was virtually unapproachable. What with his chronic resting-bitch-face and how that camera made him look perpetually busy. What Ashara had found endearing and cute, others often found intimidating. Even at parties, Ned wasn't necessarily chatty and usually sat in silence, waiting to step into save one of his friends from shaming their ancestors. Robert and Ashara loved him to death, but their respective teammates and sorority sisters had a laundry list of playground nicknames for Ned: Negative Ned, Lord Reaper Eddard Killjoy,  _frozen_ blanket, and party-diarrhea. (Ashara much prefered to call him the Quiet Wolf, after his reserved nature and the mascot of Winterfell's professional hockey team. Ned was a die-hard fan. He wasn't so much a fan of the nickname, saying it sounded like something out of the _Light Bringer_ movies.)

One could imagine Ashara's surprise when she found out that her reserved little Ned was one of the more open-minded people she had met at Harren University. It started out as such a simple conversation. 

"Your friend is really popular." Ashara had remarked one night at a party. She and Ned had laid claim to the beaten couch in someone's smoke-filled basement. Robert was busy with his adoring public on the opposite side, using a washing-machine as a makeshift throne. "Especially with girls." Ashara still hadn't quite been able to wrap her head around the fact that Ned and Robert "Stereotypical Student Athlete" Baratheon were best friends. They were so different, and she wondered how Ned really felt about it. 

"Yeah, well, he's kind of a total dreamboat." Ned shrugged. 

Ashara snorted, certain that he was joking. 

Ned gave her a funny look. "What? I mean, he has his...personality flaws, but no one can deny that Robert is hotter than an open flame." 

Ashara stopped and stared at Ned for a moment. Then she threw her arms around him in a fit of pride. "Most guys I know would die before admitting that another guy wasn't butt ugly. You didn't even add the caveat that you aren't gay. I knew you were a good egg." She petted his unwittingly fashionable messy hair like he was a dog. Such a good boy! She might have said that part out loud. She might have been a bit tipsy. 

Ned managed to pry her off with ease; he was pretty tough from growing up with Robert. Tougher than Ashara was from growing up with Arthur and Allem. He didn't look particularly flattered by her comments. "I don't get that. I mean, what's the big deal about thinking another guy is hot? Isn't it just another observation, like thinking their clothes are fancy or that they put on some weight?" 

He seemed so honestly confused, as if the question had bugged him for a long time, that Ashara sat too surprised to answer at first. "Well...I guess a lot of guys are just afraid that people will think they're gay if they admit another guy has a decent face. Like the homo grumkin will pop out of the nearest closet and pelt them with glitter or something." Okay, she had definitely been a little tipsy.  

Ashara watched Ned's eyes widen some. His cheeks reddened. "I think those things are separate." He declared determinedly even as his eyes strayed to the frosty beer in his hand. "I mean, I notice when a guy is good-looking like Robert or Rhaegar Targaryen, but not every guy that I think is handsome does it for me that way." 

Ashara connected the dots like stars forming a constellation spelling out 'bi-curious'. Tentatively, most of all quietly because they were at a party surrounded by gossipy frats, she asked, "But some guys _do_?"  

Ned gave a hesitant nod.

Later, back at Ned's dorm after they tucked Robert into bed, they made camp out in the common room with some cold pizza and flat cola. There, with late-night talk radio running in the background, Ned explained himself more thoroughly. 

"I definitely like girls. Not just in a 'trying to fit in way', either. I went to an all boys boarding school in the Vale from the time I was nine until I graduated, so there weren't a lot of girls around, but I had crushes on my female teachers and on celebrities in movies and on TV. When I went back home for the holidays, sometimes I would notice a neighbor girl and spend the whole holiday mooning over her. Brandon would always tease me for never saying anything, and would mess with me by threatening to tell the girls that I liked them if I didn't tape his hockey stick.

"I noticed boys, too, though. Starting around the time I began noticing the girls back home. I wasn't afraid to admit that I could tell another guy was handsome--Robert and Elbert even found it funny and liked to hear me say it about them. Stroked their egos, I guess. They never said anything about it making me gay, so I guess they're 'good eggs', too. I never once thought being able to recognize a guy's good looks meant I maybe liked guys like that. Me liking guys like that is what made me think that maybe I liked guys like that." Ned spun to face Ashara, a little wild in the eyes. "Does that make sense?" It was almost a plea. 

Ashara picked the slightly confusing sentence apart for Ned's meaning. "You had crushes?" 

"Here and there, but I don't know how serious they were." Ned admitted quietly. "I mean, I _did_ attend an all boys' school. There weren't a lot of girls my age around, so I wondered every once in a while if maybe it was all about accessibility. Means and opportunity, ya know?" 

"You're forgetting the most important factor." Ashara pointed out. " _Motive_. I don't think it's likely that you would feel that way _just_ because there were no girls around. Did Elbert and Robert ever have crushes on other boys?"

Ned found something rather intriguing about his flat cola. "Elbert's never said anything, and Robert never cared about rules. He sneaked into town to talk to girls all the time. How else did he end up paying child support at 16?"

"What about now? Any recent crushes?" Ashara briefly entertained the idea of shy little Ned as the protagonist of his own pulp novel steamy love affair with a professor. A married man with 2.5 kids and a frigid wife looking to _finally_ start his life after years in the closet. The sort of professor whose bow-tie strains against his thick, beefy neck, who is totally ripped under that sweater vest, with hairy pectorals and arms and hands. Hands that, after a late night in the red light of the photo development room, gently guide Ned's hand further and further down to--

Ned shook his head. By then they were halfway through the second semester. A long time to go without a crush, even a tiny one. "But it's not like I'm some social butterfly. You and Elia are where my list of new friends begins and ends. Maybe if I put myself out there more, I could get beyond the 'he's objectively attractive' stage and move towards the 'Please look at me--actually, no don't, I'm embarrassed--but still please look' stage." He said, swishing the cola around in his cup. 

That had been what really impressed Ashara. He didn't shut it down as a possibility that he would develop a crush on another guy in the future. He just shrugged and left it at 'maybe if I meet the right guy'. Like a fucking adult. That was wild after all the immature shit Ashara had seen from lesser men in all her years of school. "I think it's cool that you're so cool about this." She told Ned, because she thought he should hear that. 

Ned looked about as flattered as he had been when this conversation started. "Is it really worth a pat on the back?" He'd asked like he thought it was the dumbest thing in the world. 

That had been almost a year ago now. They really hadn't talked about it since. Ned was a pretty private person and that night had made it clear in no uncertain terms that he didn't want his potential bisexuality to be made a big deal out of. 

The situation was dire, however, and Ned was needed. Ashara spent all of Monday thinking on how she would approach him. 

She had tried setting Ned up on a few dates before as part of her, Robert, and Brandon's grand conspiracy to drag him kicking and screaming out of his shell. Ned wasn't exactly iron-willed; if he liked you and you weren't a totally repugnant waste of space, he would do just about anything for you out of a sense of obligation. Still, it had taken more than a little badgering to convince him, and that had been with girls. Ashara went ahead and assumed that convincing him to go on a date with a guy would be about ten times harder. 

At the start of the new semester, Ned and Ashara had decided to meet up for lunch every Tuesday, since it was the one day a week that they were both free for roughly an hour. They met up at the humongous university dining hall. The din of a hundred chattering students and clinking dishes made eavesdropping next to impossible. Ned was half-way through his cornbeef sandwich when he noticed something was on Ashara's mind.

"You haven't inhaled your pizza yet. What's up?"

Ashara phrased her answer carefully. "So, I have this friend-"

"No." Ned shook his head vehemently. "Not again. Not after Casselle Manwoody." 

Ashara pressed a hand to her heart, offended. "You don't even know what I was going to say."  

Ned jabbed a fry accusingly at her. "You were going to try and talk me into going on another date, that's what you were going to do." He chomped the fry violently. "Well, not this time. I don't need a girlfriend right now, Ashara." 

Ashara grinned, seeing her opening. "What about a boyfriend?" She whispered. 

His next fry slipped from between Ned's fingers. It plopped into the little mountain of ketchup in the basket with a small splash. Ned narrowed his icy grey eyes dangerously at her. "You better not have told this friend of yours that I was-"

"Of course not." Ashara waved a dismissive hand. "I haven't told anyone anything about you in any certain terms. I wouldn't have bothered you with this, really, except we're facing a bit of crisis right now." 

Ned fished his fry out of Mt. Ketchup. "Crisis?"

Ashara smiled at his petulant tone. Ned hated admitting that he was human and sometimes had a hankering for gossip. 

"As I was saying, I have this friend. And this friend has this problem. This problem being a recently out gay man who is carrying a torch for her boyfriend. Which everyone but her boyfriend seems to see plain as day. Long story short, the race is on to get this guy a new boyfriend so he can get over my friend's boyfriend." 

Ned seemed to mull this over. That was a good sign; he was sympathetic to the cause.

"I don't know..." Those three dots symbolized hope. For Elia and Rhaegar's relationship. For Jon Connington's broken heart. For Ned to finally explore another side of himself. 

"It's for a good cause~." Ashara sang. 

"From your perspective." Ned muttered. Then, more assertively, he declared, "Like I said, I don't need a girlfriend right now. Same goes for boyfriends. Sorry, try someone else." 

Disappointment left Ashara unable to finish her pizza that day. She had been hoping that by some miracle Ned might agree and everything would work out for everyone as neatly as it did on TV and in movies. Still, she let the matter drop out of respect for Ned, and reported her failure to Elia later that evening over the phone. 

"My friend isn't in the market for a significant other." She explained simply. "Sorry." 

Elia sighed on the other end of the line. "You can't, I don't know, twist his arm a little?  _One_ date won't kill him." She sounded tired. That didn't mean much, honestly, since being a medical resident was exhausting as a general rule. In the background, Ashara could hear Rhaegar strumming at his guitar. 

"My friend was pretty adamant." 

"Does he even know Jon?" Elia whispered. "I mean, could you at least goad him into a meeting?" 

Ashara could probably have goaded Ned into a full-blown date if she had kept the pressure on. But the matter was more sensitive since it was another guy. Ashara was the only person Ned had ever confided in about his past crushes. Even if he went on a date with another guy and it turned out those crushes really had been a case of "situational sexuality", sooner or later, other people in his life would catch on to the fact that he hadn't been absolutely certain of his heterosexuality. Word traveled fast; soon the whole campus would hear, and before long word would reach his folks up north. Ashara couldn't blame Ned for not wanting to rock the boat with some of his more tumultuous relationships, namely his father. 

"Elia, I don't think this is really our business. If anyone should be trying to set Jon up, it's Mooton and Lonmouth. They're his actual friends. They know his tastes." 

"We know his tastes, too." Elia remarked darkly. Ashara imagined her peering through the kitchen doorway at Rhaegar, strumming his guitar in his usual obliviousness to reality on the couch. The man lived in a world of sunshine and rainbows where the universe had a plan and everything worked out okay in the end for good people, especially pinnacles of human perfection like himself. Little did he know of the chaos ensuing around him, _because of him_. 

Ashara tried to think of alternatives. Someone to throw to the wolves in Ned's place. She felt like she was scrambling to save Ned's life. "What about your brother? Oberyn is bi. Set him and Jon up on a date if you're so worried." 

Elia let out a frustrated whimper. "He was the first one I called! He wants nothing to do with this mess, and besides, he's having a fling with a septa." 

"A septa?" Ashara crowed with laughter. "A naughty little septa? It's official, your little brother is _living_ a porno!"

"Shut up!" Elia laughed even as she said it. "I don't want to hear my baby brother even mentioned in the same sentence as porn." 

They prodded back and forth over Oberyn's exploits, and Arthur's, too. They chatted a bit about Doran, Mellario, and little Arianna. Elia asked after Ashara's eldest brother Allem. He was being a boring adult, as usual. Teaching snotty middle-schoolers earth science and ring-shopping. Arthur at least had the mystique of being a "special agent", even if that meant he was just a glorified bodyguard for politicians like Rhaegar's uncle Aerys. Stupidly, Ashara let her guard down, thinking Elia had finally let the matter drop. She had made the fatal mistake of forgetting how persistent Elia could be. One had to be to survive her myriad of ailments.

"Did you at least try and talk Jon up to your friend?" Elia abruptly asked after finishing a story about Arianna meeting Viserys for the first time and promptly shoving him into the kiddie pool. 

"Uh," Ashara almost lied to her friend. She couldn't. Even for Ned. "Well, no, not exactly." 

"You have to try again then!" Elia insisted. 

At that moment, as Ashara was rapidly stringing together a counter argument in her head, Casselle Manwoody sauntered into the sorority house kitchen. She tapped Ashara on the shoulder and asked to use the phone. Ashara made a shooing gesture. "Elia," Casselle only tapped more insistently. Ashara tried to ignore her. "Elia, I really don't think describing Jon is going to enthuse my friend at all." 

"Ashara, please-" 

"I need to call my mom before she goes to bed." Said Casselle. 

Ashara covered the phone with her hand and looked between the wall clock and Casselle. "It's 4 o'clock." 

Casselle made a grab for the phone. "There's a time difference." 

Ashara slipped past Casselle to stand on the other side of the kitchen island, stretching the phone cord to its capacity. "Wait five minutes." She said before returning to her conversation with Elia. "My friend said no, Elia." 

"But, Ash-"

Before Elia could finish her sentence, Ashara caught Casselle moving towards the receiver from the corner of her eye. "Oh no, you don't!" Ashara flew back over to the kitchen entry way and steered Casselle back into the hall.

"I've gotta make a call!" Casselle insisted. She made another grab for the phone and Ashara twisted away, wrapping herself in mint green phone cord in the process. 

"Your mom can stay up five minutes, I said!" A sudden realization struck Ashara as she pressed the phone back to her ear and Elia's voice flooded her senses. "There're no time differences in Westeros!" She exclaimed. Casselle made another grab for the phone. Ashara kept her at bay with an outstretched leg. 

On the other end of the line, Elia sounded confused. "Yeah, well, no more than an hour or so. Why do you--whatever. _Come on_ , Ashara, please talk to your friend, just one more time." Her friend pleaded. 

"I gotta call my boyfriend!" Casselle shouted. 

"I thought you were calling your mom!" 

"Ashara, please!" 

Elia's pleading flooded one ear while Casselle's bitching stopped up the other. Ashara teetered on one leg, struggling to keep balance with one leg defending against an impatient sorority sister and an arm trapped against her side by a tangle of phone cord. Ashara was rapidly approaching her wit's end. She could barely keep track of who she was talking to. 

"Gimme a minute, _damn!_ " She shouted at Casselle as Elia made yet another plea. 

"Elia, I cant-" 

" _Please_ , Ashara-" 

"I'm trying to respect Ned's boundaries!" Ashara shouted over Casselle's bitching, hitting her wit's end like a brick wall. Her patience surely left a cartoon-ish imprint. 

Elia fell silent for one blissful moment. Then said, "Ned is-" 

The line went dead suddenly. Ashara turned to the receiver in shock to find Rhonda Rowan's finger pressed on the disconnect. She turned to her sorority sister with a face that wordlessly asked, "What the fuck, man?" Rhonda's expression remained impressively unimpressed. 

"Great example you're setting there, Prez." She declared before turning around and waltzing out the backdoor past a waiting Baelor Hightower. Her boyfriend tipped a hat to Ashara and Casselle, an amused smile tugging at his lips, before following after his girlfriend. The door swung shut behind him, thanks to the house's sinking foundation. 


	4. Elia Martell I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday afternoon, Week 3...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights belong to GRRM.

Elia used to think like Ashara. She used to believe wholeheartedly that they were standing at the apex of a new era, reaping the benefits their ancestresses had fought tooth and nail for. How could she not? Elia had grown up wearing blue jeans to school without so much as a batted eyelash. The dolls she played with as a little girl were marketed as "career women" not just plastic housewives. The television programs of her childhood had been brimming with positive female role models, independent women who were men's bosses, had sex, and made witty, dirty jokes like the men did. Elia went to school to be a doctor and not one person said a word about women being nurses and men being doctors. Her family had been so proud, in fact, that she could do no wrong in their eyes. Elia had been Teflon since she was 18.  

Then she turned twenty-five, and her own mother turned to her at the dinner table and lamented the fact she wasn't settled down yet. 

Once she recovered from the shock of the statement, Elia said, "Well, I have my career to focus on first." 

Her mother nodded, seeming to understand. "But you'll be graduating soon. You better keep your eyes peeled at the hospital for a nice, handsome man. There will be no one left by the time you're thirty." 

The statement had been so bizarre, so insane and illogical, that at the time, Elia had dismissed it outright as unwitting holdover from the dark ages her parents grew up in. When even in Dorne where wives didn't have to ask their husband's permission to open bank accounts and make withdrawals, schools forbade girls from wearing pants. 

Soon after, however, her mother started going to great pains to introduce Elia to the sons of her high society friends. At every party Elia attended over that vacation, it was a new face, a new Big Name, another meaningful look from her mother or her father or even Doran. Elia knew they only wanted the best for her. A nice man to treat her well, who would respect her career. Someone of equal station in life with ambitions of their own, not a mooch. Someone who would take care of her if her health took a sudden turn for the worse. Someone to look after her when she was far from home. Rhaegar met all those expectations, he was the best she could hope for, so Elia chose him at one of Rhaella Targaryen's famous dinner parties. 

Almost two years later, Elia struggled to keep him. Not that Rhaegar had wandering eyes or was some frivolous soul. No, it was worse then that. They were friends. Not best friends like Elia was with Ashara, or Rhaegar was with Arthur. Not best friends like all happy couples were at heart. Simply friends. They enjoyed each other's company. They could laugh and hold interesting conversations. Elia liked his music and his poetry, and Rhaegar was endlessly curious about medicine. But Elia and Rhaegar's relationship didn't seem to matter to either of them outside of the circumstances where it made their parents and society at large happy. 

They were in the middle of a careful balancing act. Pretending to mean more to each other than they did, trying to make things work, because they both knew they couldn't hold out for true, passionate love. Elia was going to a doctor who worked long, tiring hours and would hardly have time for friends, much less dating. Her chronic illnesses would always repel most men. It was one thing when your loved one _gets_ sick; it's a whole other to go into a relationship knowing someone was sick and would never really get better. They feared the responsibility of tending to sick loved one. They were young, they wanted to live. They wanted someone they could go on wild adventures with, heedless of inhalers and poor digestion. Rhaegar was the son of a long dynasty of politicians, some deified by history, others the sleaziest that ever were. His uncle was one of the most powerful members of parliament, and possibly the most imbalanced and conservative member the parliament had seen in decades. Not everyone would be able to separate him from the politics of his family members. His bouts of depression didn't help matters, nor did the tabloid speculation surrounding his parentage. Rhaella had popped him out when she was still in middle school and had refused to name a father. The only father Rhaegar had ever known was his step-dad, Bonifer. He needed someone who wasn't bothered by the intrigue surrounding his family. Someone who wouldn't ask certain questions. 

Their tight-rope act could not take much strain. Seven help them if Rhaegar's eyes ever did wander, or Elia's own. It would be their ruin. At the moment, however, Elia was facing a much more real fear than infidelity. Elia wouldn't risk her and Rhaegar's relationship by tolerating Jon Connington's pining. The last thing they needed was a one-sided love triangle. Jon had always been resentful of Elia and now she knew why, and now she could fix it before he did something catty and ruined everything. 

Elia wasn't cruel. She wasn't going to shoo him off. She didn't do it when she thought he was just a clingy friend, and she wouldn't do it now knowing he was hopelessly in love. Instead, she would find him someone new. Someone with whom happily ever after was a realistic outcome. 

Ned was just perfect, Elia thought as she searched the library stacks. He was down-to-earth, sweet, if a bit reserved. But that would compliment Jon's fiery nature. Ned already had plenty of experience reigning in Robert's temper. Neither one of them was necessarily a comedian, but that was probably for the best. Ned probably didn't want to date a red-haired version of his best friend. He needed someone he could silently judge people with at parties. But also still roughhouse and play football with, someone to drag him out of his shell once in a while. It was a perfect match! Ashara should have been more persistent. 

Elia spotted Ned sitting all by his lonesome in a deserted corner of the library. He was surrounded by dusty university newspaper archives from the basement. Elia slipped into a chair beside him. Ned looked over with surprise at his sudden visitor. 

"Elia," Ned shut the file in his hand. A puff of dust startled them both. Elia fought not to cough. "What are you doing on campus?" Ned asked, pushing the dusty tomes to the opposite side of the table for her benefit. 

Elia smiled warmly. "Can't a friend pay a visit? We've barely spoken all year." They had last seen each other at the sorority's New Years party. Ashara had had the fun idea of handing out stickers reading '8' or '3' and making a game where one could only share a New Years' kiss with someone with the other number, completing the date of the new year. Elia had spent most of the night searching for an '8' to Ned's '3' with Ashara. In the end, Ashara had been the one to press a kiss to his cheek at midnight. They could have broadened their search had Elia known he liked boys.

"Harroway's Town is twenty minutes away," Ned pointed out, suspicion tinging the edges of his words. His eyebrows touched. "How did you know I was in the library?" 

Elia had tried his dorm first and badgered it out of Robert. The library or the dining hall, he'd said before rolling over and returning to his nap. He had smelled like stale beer. Who was sleeping off a hangover on a Wednesday afternoon? "I keep good company. I was bound to find one of my friends hanging around here." She told Ned. 

Ned snorted and Elia grinned. Who were they kidding? The both them seemed to keep company exclusively with rapscallions. Without them, the likes of Robert and Ashara would be worm food, either thanks to alcohol-poisoning or by their own parents' hands, having failed out of school and subsequently flushed thousands down the drain.

"So what's up?" Ned asked in a meaningful way. He wasn't so easily distracted by jokes as their other friends.

"Let's go to a movie." Elia answered him without really answering him. "The last movie in the _Light Bringer_ trilogy is coming out. Rhaegar is obsessed so he won't make much of a date, so I figured why not make this a group outing? Us and a bunch of friends." She had already talked Rhaegar into it--he was as eager as a puppy to see the movie, it was a small task to get him to excitedly call Lonmouth, Mooton, and Jon about how they were all going to camp out by the theater to watch the midnight opening. He was out shopping for tents as she and Ned spoke. 

Ned mulled it over. "That's this saturday, right? I have this essay due Monday, and a test on Tuesday to study for..." No wonder Ashara had so much trouble. The boy avoided social engagements like the plague unless you twisted his arm. She could only imagine trying to goad him into an outright date--apparently the Casselle Manwoody match took two weeks of cajoling. Getting him to meet Jon in a group setting would be much easier than setting them up on a date straight away. Kinder even, thought Elia. 

"Come on, Ned. It's just a movie, not a frat party like Robert will try to drag you out to. When he tries to this weekend, you can tell him you have plans and you won't be lying." That shook Ned's resolve, Elia could tell. She threw an arm around his shoulder for good measure as she dealt the final blow. "We'll grab Myrish afterwards." She sang. 

That was it. Elia saw it in Ned's eyes, the thaw of his will to say no. Ned loved Myrish food. A bag of takeout sat crumbled on the table right in front of them. His mom got him and all his siblings hooked when they were young after she started travelling. She would visit them, or they would visit her, and there would always be some new foreign dish on the table to try. The Stark kids grew to love the Myrish stuff best. Elia patted Ned on the back and stood. 

"I'll pick you up after I get off work on Saturday. Kindly stuff your pockets with candy and microwave popcorn. I refuse to pay those absurd concession stand prices." Ned nodded meekly, likely aware he'd just been conned in some fashion. When Elia reached the visitor's parking lot and climbed into her car, she took a moment to do a little victory dance. 


	5. Jon Connington II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday afternoon, Week 3...
> 
> Arthur Dayne - Age 25/Bodyguard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights belong to GRRM.

Richard was the one to spot Elia and Ashara making their way up the block. Jon didn't look up from where he was warming his hands on the portable furnace that Myles packed for their urban camping trip. It was only 6 o'clock and Jon could see his breath. Rhaegar and Myles were taking their turn napping in the tent under six layers of quilts, leaving Richard and Jon to rot outside in the collapsible chairs, defending their place at the front of the line, right next to the ticket booth. Half a hundred people were camped out behind them, eyeing their spot enviously. They shouldn't. They really shouldn't. Rhaegar had dragged them out there before noon. 

"They have a friend." Richard announced, and that made Jon crane his head to see up the street. 

There was Ashara in one of her fashionable trench coats with a little hat sitting precariously atop her massive perm. Elia was easy to spot in her neon anorak, huge earrings, and side-ponytail. But then there was a guy walking between them, locking arms with both girls. Rather than some lucky fellow, he somehow looked like a convict being dragged across the cell block by two burly guards despite standing a full head taller than Ashara and Elia both. He was wearing a corduroy jacket over a jean jacket with a scarf his mom probably knitted him. He had work boots on like he was a real working-class schmoe, but he had one of those combed-back hairdos meant to look tousled and effortless when really they were a fuck ton of effort. Jon should know, he had the same haircut. 

The line behind them bitched and moaned and cursed when the girls and their friend sat with Jon and Richard around the furnace. Only the stranger seemed to care, giving the rabble an apprehensive look as he folded his legs.

"Guys, this is Ned Stark." Elia took the initiative of introducing the faux-schmoe. With an uncharacteristic giddy smile, no less. "Ned, this is Jon Connington and Richard Lonmouth." 

Ned shook Jon and Richard's hands with a neutral expression and a low hello. There was a beat of silence before Richard asked Elia about her day at the hospital. Ned immediately turned and started whispering with Ashara. She looked just as tense as him. Jon wondered if they were an item and this was his awkward introduction to the group. Things didn't add up, though. If that was the case, Ashara would have introduced him, not Elia. And they weren't really Ashara's friends; more like friends of a friend, if one could even call Jon and Elia friends. Then it was friend of a friend of a friend in his case. Finally, there was the obvious fact that Ashara was out of Ned's league. Ned had a long face, pale and plain, limp, dull brown hair, and he wasn't quite finished filling out yet. Ashara Dayne was _Ashara Dayne._ Even Jon knew that. He was left to wonder why they dragged Ned along if he wasn't dating Ashara. Why make him the odd one out for the occasion? 

Jon didn't realize he had been staring at Ned until he caught Elia staring at _him_ from the corner of his own eye. He found boring, frail Elia _smirking_ at him. For an instant, one could actually tell she and Oberyn were siblings. Jon gaped at her, and she quickly turned away and pulled Ashara and Ned into a fresh conversation about their expectations for the movie. Jon almost rubbed his eyes. If he weren't currently freezing his balls off, he'd think he was suffering heat stroke and hallucinating. It had to be some sort of mirage! But it had definitely been real. Elia looked at him like she was watching a plan come together. What had it been about though? A horrifying thought struck Jon then. 

Jon had been _"_ out" for almost a week exactly, and already Myles and Richard had tried to set him up with a gay past roommate and a second cousin twice removed. Something about his coming out made his friends want to flex their nonexistent match-making muscles. Now Elia, too? _Figures_. He spared Ned a dirty look. They didn't even bother to find him someone hot. Jon yanked down the zipper of the tent and dragged the mountain of blankets off Myles and Rhaegar. 

"It's our turn!" He shouted. Rhaegar and Myles groaned but complied, switching places with Jon and Richard. Jon's last sight before zipping the tent shut again was Rhaegar pressing a dutiful kiss to Elia's temple. He burrowed furiously under the quilts into the sweet embrace of darkness and sleep. 

When the same was done to him and Richard an hour later so the girls could nap, Jon climbed out of the tent to find that Arthur had arrived. Jon hadn't thought he would come. It was a several hours drive up from King's Landing. Rhaegar and Ashara must have been persuasive (read "annoying"). Jon couldn't help feeling disappointed that he showed up. It was hard enough competing against Elia and the movie for Rhaegar's attention. With Arthur here, it was lost cause. 

To add insult to injury, Rhaegar and Arthur both seemed to find something interesting about plain-faced Ned. Richard took Elia's seat beside Rhaegar so Jon was forced to sit where Ashara had beside Ned. He was forced to watch Rhaegar and Arthur lean in and hang on every curt and quiet word out of Ned's pouty mouth. 

"My brother Brandon went to the Arbor with his friends this past holiday, and my dad wouldn't give Lya or Ben permission to go, so it was just me and my mom in Pentos. She recently bought a second house in the hills outside the city with lots of open pasture to ride horses. Lya and Brandon would have loved it. If they had been there, we probably would have spent our whole vacation out there. But me and mom only went out there on the weekends to check in on things and make sure the staff was taking good care of the horses boarding there--my mom does that for extra income. We spent the regular week in the city, sightseeing and attending her friends' parties. One week my mom got bored, though, so she booked us train tickets to Norvos to see a festival with a bear. It was sort of bizarre." The trip sounded exciting, but Ned didn't sound excited talking about it. If anything, he sounded embarrassed. Jon came to the conclusion he must be stupid. Who got embarrassed about having a kick-ass vacation? 

"I wish I could travel more." Rhaegar declared mournfully. "But my uncle is too high-profile. It was hard enough to get cleared for travel to Volantis for the tour. They made me take a dozen bodyguards everywhere. The fans saw us coming from a mile away." Rhaegar grimaced, likely flashbacking to the grisly scene. Rabid teenage girls on all sides, screeching incessantly. He'd messed up his wrist during that trip--had to get surgery and everything--all from signing too many autographs.  

Arthur nodded sympathetically. "This is my first weekend off in almost a year. Crows will have pecked out my eyes by the time I get a real vacation. I won't rest even after I'm dead. They'll be using me as scarecrow out in the fields." He turned to Ned and said, "I envy you. Giant house up north, cushy private school in the Vale, vacations with your mom across the Narrow Sea. You've got it made." 

"Same." Rhaegar sighed almost musically. 

Ned didn't look happy about being envied. _Idiot_. Jon would have killed to make Rhaegar envy him. To impress him. 

Jon wondered how they had gotten on this subject. Ned probably didn't bring it up. "What did I miss?" He asked Myles. 

Myles shrugged. "Some talk about classes, and families. Stark here is a _Stark_." 

Jon narrowed his eyes. "Is that supposed to mean something?" 

Arthur grinned and threw an arm around Ned's shoulders. If he noticed how Ned stiffened and his expression soured at the uninvited contact, Arthur certainly didn't care. "As in Stark & Sons. That huge hardware store chain that's started popping up everywhere in the last five years. Ring any bells?" 

"It's been popular in the North forever really," Said Ned as he carefully removed Arthur's arm from his personal space. "Dad's been expanding, though, yeah." 

"You mean your dad is even richer than what he was." Said Arthur with a smug grin. He threw his arm right back around Ned's shoulder, pressing even closer to his side this time so they were cheek to cheek.

 _Faux-Schmoe was right_ , thought Jon. The Starks had to be one of the richest families in Westeros. Powerful, too. Right up there with the Tullys, the Baratheons, and the Martells. The Targaryens even. The kind of family that had lobbyists hanging out in King's Landing rubbing elbows with guys like Rhaegar's uncle and had gold card country club memberships. Jon was the son of lawyers, Myles' dad owned a small-time-nearly-microscopic freighting company, Richard's dad was a colonel in the military. Even Arthur and Ashara's mom was only a tenured physics professor at some tiny Dornish university and their dad was a local dance teacher. They were all upper-middle-class, but Jon realized that Ned was a cut above the rest of them. He had more in common with Elia and Rhaegar than with Jon and Ashara. That irritated the hell out of Jon.

He didn't say anything though, least of all do anything. Rhaegar clearly liked Ned already--for Seven knew what reason--and he would give Jon that awful Disappointed Parent look if he acted like a dick towards Ned when Ned technically hadn't done anything wrong. Elia's meddling and Ned's privilege pissed Jon off, but Rhaegar's disapproval was like a splinter in his heart and a papercut to the soul. Jon decided that ignoring him was his best bet. He turned to Richard and asked him about the girl in his philosophy class he'd had his eyes on. 

The next five hours were spent chatting between chattering teeth. At 10 o'clock, Myles' furnace's battery gave out on them. Myles spent ten minutes dramatically trying to revive it, complete with a "Don't give up on me, you son of a bitch!" before giving up on it himself. He left the line for a bit after that to return the tent, furnace, and quilts to his car. With no refuge from cold, the eight of them huddled together like penguins for warmth. 

Arthur sacrificed his scarf for Ashara's sake, and she wrapped her arms around his torso in return. Disgustingly enough, Rhaegar managed to zip Elia's skinny body into his jacket with him. They looked ridiculous. Richard and Myles made a show of embracing each other, grandiosely declaring their love for one another and making kissing noises to the disgust of the line behind them. Jon and Ned stood awkwardly apart from the rest by comparison. Ned seemed fine with it. His jacket was even half unzipped and his scarf loose around his neck. Jon, on the other hand, felt a sudden kinship with popsicles. 

Elia noticed, unfortunately. "Ned," She called Stark to attention. "Jon's hot-blood is failing him. Stand a bit closer, why don't you?" 

Ashara sent Elia a sharp look, and a silent but no less heated exchange began. Jon could hardly be bothered to translate the meaningful looks, however, because Ned Stark was apparently as dutiful as a dog and did exactly as Elia bid. He took one wide step over so he and Jon were shoulder to shoulder. By any other standard, it would be considered appropriate distance. Close enough to help not only Jon out, but Myles and Richard on Ned's other side, though not so close that they would give the line behind them another reason to gripe about those damned homosexuals. But Jon knew the game Elia and Ned were playing. They couldn't be more obvious if they showed up with dice in hand. This was just a ploy, he knew, to get them close, to get them talking, to get them _flirting_. Jon avoided even looking at Ned for the rest of their time spent in line. It meant over an hour of staring at a florescent theater sign, sure, but the retina damage was worth it.

What he failed to account for was their tickets. Because they stood in line together and the movie they were seeing was such a big release, the theater was being especially stringent about seating. As Ned stood behind Jon in line, they ended up with tickets for neighboring seats. 

Jon spent the full minute after he walked into the theater lobby staring down at his ticket with the same numb horror as a failing report card. Then he grabbed the nearest of his friends and demanded they switch seats. 

" _Why?_ " Demanded Richard right back, clutching his own ticket defensively. A sweet suckling babe against his hairy breast. He may have been the wrong person to ask. The worst even. Now he would guard his seat and its corresponding ticket with his life just because Jon wanted it.

Jon tried to think up an excuse. Nothing decent came to mind, so instead he made a swipe for Richard's ticket. "Just give it here, Dick!"

Myles stepped in then, always the peacekeeper. "We waited thirteen hours to get in here, we are _not_ getting kicked out for fighting. Why do you want Rick's ticket?" He asked Jon. 

Jon couldn't could control his own eyeballs. Their vengeance for the retina damage. They cast themselves in Ned's direction at the concession stands. (The idiot was apparently too much of a goody-two-shoes to sneak in snacks like everyone else. Like Elia didn't have baked potato wrapped in tinfoil in her purse, and Ashara cold pizza in a zip-lock bag. Richard had a 2-liter of soda shoved up his ass for all they knew.) The glance betrayed everything. Even the neighbor's window Jon broke out with a baseball when he was ten. But mostly the non-consensual blind date. 

Pure delight washed over both Myles and Richard's expressions. Mouths agape, eyes sparkling, and their top rows of teeth bared and ready to eat shit. Then that awful, dreadful noise escaped their mouths like air out of slashed tires. "Aw~!"

It was like nails on a chalkboard for Jon. He made another futile swipe for Richard's ticket. His so-called friend held it well over his head and threw his own head back in fiendish laughter. Myles, who sat slightly closer to the definition of "friend" at the moment, elbowed him in his side, hushing him up. 

He turned to Jon and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Ned. "This a date?" He asked. As if it weren't obvious.  

"It's a set-up." Jon growled. He made a swipe for Myles' ticket this time. Myles quickly stuffed it into his waistband; not out of reach, but in a place Jon would definitely never venture. 

"Well, _yeah_ ," Said Myles. "Most dates are. Elaborate, please." 

Jon heaved a sigh and gestured for Myles and Richard to lean in. "Elia's no better than you lot. She's been giving me and Ned both funny looks all evening. She's trying to get us together, I can just tell." 

Myles and Richard exchanged a side-long look. Then spun on their heels to face in Ned's direction. 

"Well...not my first pick but..." Myles murmured. 

"This is window-shopping, not a race. You never settle for the first one you see." 

"I didn't expect him to be on this specific market, is all..."

"The Gods work in mysterious ways." 

"He's a nice guy, I suppose." Myles remarked. 

"Good head on his shoulders, I'll bet." Richard declared. 

"But he mentioned being friends with Robert Baratheon..." 

"Just means he's experienced with managing stubborn ass Stormlanders!" 

They laughed. They laughed their fucking asses off. Jon stared at them, too overwhelmed with betrayal to even be mad. How could they talk like that, like he wasn't standing right there!?

Before Jon could smack them both upside the head, they turned back around, grinning ear to ear. 

"Yeah, you're not getting our tickets." Said Richard.

"What?" Jon snarled. 

Myles and Richard weren't the least bit threatened.

"You and Ned are going to sit next to each other and enjoy the movie." Declared Richard.

"You are going to share popcorn. You will discuss the first act during the intermission and the movie as a whole when we all go out for dinner at some Myrish place downtown." Myles elaborated.

"Where you will once again sit next to each other." Richard gave Jon a stern look, as if daring him to do otherwise.

"You will chat. You will get to know each other. You will laugh about something dumb the rest of us at the table won't understand." If Richard was the stern father, Myles was the scarier mother.

"And at the end of the evening, you are going to ask for Ned's number." Richard stated it with all the confidence of empirically proven, scientific fact. 

"You can't make me do that." Jon refused to. He didn't even like popcorn. It got stuck in his teeth. 

Myles smirked. An arrogant, wormy twist of his mouth. Jon wanted to punch it off. "We don't have to. You'll do it yourself." 

Ned returned from concessions with a large tub of popcorn and a medium coke. A bag of licorice was stuffed into his jacket pocket. Because _of course_ Ned liked licorice. Ashara and Elia returned from the restroom with Arthur. Elia's eyes met Myles', then darted to Richard's. The trio's lips curled into devious smiles. They moved strategically, as if they were huddling up to chat, leaving Jon standing next to Ned. Arthur flashed Jon a grin and moved towards Elia's side--even he was in on the take, apparently. Ashara had the decency to cast Jon an apologetic look and remained close to Ned's side. She kept him fine company, too, until Rhaegar called them over to take their seats. 

All their seats were in the first row. Rhaegar was in the middle with Elia, and the rest of them trailed off to his left. Ned and Jon were exiled to the end of the row, possibly the worst seats in the house. Ned sat down first, balancing his popcorn carefully in his lap and setting his drink in the cup-holder with a careful look at Jon. Jon let him have the arm-rest. He had greater concerns. 

He cast his so-called friends one last pleading look, but they all ignored him in favor of the trailers. Some dumb modern retelling of Jonquil the aspiring singer & Florian the party clown-turned-cop coming out in a few months. With a nerve-steeling breath, Jon took his seat next to Ned. 


	6. Ned Stark I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday night, Week 3...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights belong to GRRM.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains allusions to sexual assault, slavery, and eugenics. No character is subject to any of these, but an in-universe fictional character. Nothing graphic is described, but I suggest if these themes are triggering you skip from the line "At last, the Great Other had appeared on screen." to the line "Ned found Ashara and Elia huddled near the entrance."

Ned had only seen the first two _Light Bringer_ films because Lya and Benjen were obsessed and needed a chaperone to the Wintertown theater. Brandon had been off with Barbrey when the first movie was out, and just couldn't be assed to even give them a ride when the second movie was released. His excuse obstinately being that he wouldn't understand anything since he hadn't seen the first movie. So, Rickard made Ned do it.

The first movie had been all about this blacksmith's apprentice living in a pre-medieval winter hellscape dominated by the Others. The Others in the movie weren't quite like the ones Ned grew up on stories about. For one, they were much prettier, looking more like blue-eyed Valyrian supermodels than the race of sentient ice monsters Ned expected. They also really liked to leer lustfully at the protagonist, Azor. The movie saw Azor's village destroyed by Others and their ice-spiders, and Azor vowed revenge for the murder of his father-figure, the blacksmith. So he ventured off to find someone to teach him how to fight, since he only knew how to make weapons, not use them. He found himself a master in an Andal knight (even though the Andals didn't invade Westeros until a millennia later...) and developed a rather abrupt romance with his daughter, Nissa Nissa, who did not dress at all appropriately for battle despite supposedly being a Grade A badass. (That chainmail bikini was too ridiculous to be sexy, in Ned's opinion, but Robert disagreed. He had a poster on his wall despite never having watched a single minute of the franchise.) Even so, the first movie ended with Nissa and friends whisking an unconscious Azor to safety after the Others laid siege to her father's castle, but not before Azor kicked the ass of the Other who killed the blacksmith. 

The second movie saw a lot of moping from Azor and Nissa both. Nissa because her father was supposedly dead and Azor because he was back to square one with no master. Yeah, needless to say, audiences found one of them way more sympathetic than the other. It took half a movie of being chased around the continent by the Others and a short-lived new teacher (a warrior septon of sorts) before they came to the obvious conclusion that Nissa Nissa should teach Azor to fight. One montage later, Azor was handing Nissa her barely-covered ass on a platter. Then the woodwitch they had been hiding out with informed them that their friend who was really obviously jealous of their relationship had betrayed them to the Others and that the Others were on their way. Before they left, the woodwitch revealed the rest of the prophecy she told them about earlier in the movie: surprise, surprise, Azor was the Chosen One. Azor (now dubbed Azor Ahai as the Chosen One) and Nissa fled, but they were headed off at a ravine by their ex-friend and the female Other who'd been paired with the main Other antagonist from the first movie. An epic fight ensued and Azor ended up dangling off the side of a cliff. Their ex-friend tempted Nissa Nissa to his side by telling her that-- _shocker_ \--her father was still alive and Nissa Nissa _actually_ betrayed Azor, letting him to fall to his "death" at the bottom of the ravine.

That had honestly been surprising. Ned and his siblings had been mortified. Lyanna had even cried, and then poured her soda over Ben's head when he'd laughed. 

Ned wasn't exactly excited about the last movie. He had a fair idea of how the broad strokes would go. Azor will mope about being the Chosen One, before finally sucking it up and rallying the people against the Others sometime in the first or second act. Nissa Nissa will feel guilty and switch sides again. Azor and Nissa will kiss and make-up, and Nissa Nissa will sacrifice herself in order to create Lightbringer, only to be resurrected or outright survive being stabbed in the chest by a burning sword. The Great Other who had been looming off-screen for two movies would be defeated in a climatic battle.  _Happily Ever After_. It was just how things went in movies and on TV. They never had the guts to follow the source material to its dark conclusions. Especially since most of the trilogy's fans were around Lya and Ben's age. 

Ned watched the trailers with vague interest. A comedic modern retelling of Jonquil & Florian the Fool. A biopic about a rather pale-looking Princess Nymeria. An adaptation of a pulpy horror novel about zombies, scantily clad women, and scantily clad zombie women. An action film glorifying the antics of the Ironborn raiders of old. By the time the studio logos of the main feature began, all Ned's soda was gone along with most of his popcorn and licorice. He had hardly noticed it disappearing down his gullet, and for a split second he wondered if he was spending too much time with Robert. There was a good reason Ned never offered to foot the bill when they ate out, even when one of his parents sent him a fat parental guilt check. 

He slumped in his seat, feeling shy about getting up and getting more. The last of the production logos was fading to black and Ned was seated at the end of the row. He'd have to walk past everyone else and block their view to get to the door. Rhaegar had had a mad look in his eye all evening. Ned did not want to get between him and his movie, figuratively or literally. So Ned condemned himself to enjoying the first two acts on a strict popcorn and licorice ration and without a drink. 

The movie had a cold-open on a band of filthy highwaymen attacking a passing Lord and his entourage on a road. They exchanged witty barbs and one-liners as they speedily dispatched guards and stripped them of their finery, finally breaking into the carriage containing nondescript barrels that must have been important for some reason. There was a cut to the highwaymen transferring the barrels to their own cart, hooked up to much faster-looking horses. As they were finishing, there was another cut to a highwayman up in a tree spotting the Lord's reinforcements and bird-calling his comrades a warning. Ned wondered how the Lord had sent for help when he and all his men were tied naked to a tree...

A dramatic chase scene ensued. Sharp turns on winding roads, carts going up on two-wheels, arrows flying back and forth with close-ups on the archers' constipated expressions. It ended only when the highwaymen crossed a relatively modern-looking bridge and signaled an ally hiding below to light a line of historically inaccurate gun powder leading under the bridge. The bridge was blown to smithereens and what was left was in flames. The highwaymen laughed as the Lord--who was mysteriously fully clothed again--and his men cursed loudly across the river. The Lord even took his silly feathered cap off, threw it to ground, and stomped on it like a child having a hissy fit.

There was one last cut to the man who had blown the bridge to kingdom come. He whistled at his own fine work and made to climb up the river bank meet his friends, only to pause at a groan off-screen. He turned around and ventured further downriver. In the reeds, he found the unconscious protagonist Azor, looking very good for a man who'd fallen two hundred feet into dangerous rapids. 

Cue the tile card. 

Ned swore he heard someone squeal under their breath, and he was ninety-nine percent certain it was Rhaegar. Ned contained a sigh by stuffing his mouth with popcorn. He regretted it immediately, as most of it ended up unpopped kernels, sending Ned into a coughing fit to rival one of Elia's daily bouts. Three booming coughs burst from his mouth, burning his throat. Ned tried to smother it in his hands, but felt a kernel scratch the back of his throat and ended up doubled-over in another fit. His eyes burned and his coughs were too loud to smother completely. Ned could sense the people around him growing frustrated at his continued hacking; Ned couldn't even hear the witty anachronistic stew of dialogue on screen between the highwaymen and the newly awoken Azor. During a moment of relief, Ned tried to take a drink to sooth his throat, only to find that the ice hadn't melted enough yet to be of much help. 

In the neighboring seat, Jon Connington heaved a put-upon sigh. Ned's cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

There was a slosh of liquid in the dark. "Here." Connington whispered grumpily. 

Ned looked over to find Connington offering him a bottle of cola. The plastic shone in the screen's bluish-grey light (the directors had really darkened the overall aesthetic of the movie, it wasn't nearly as colorful as the first two installments. A lot of black, blue, grey, and earth tone that reminded Ned of home.). Ned looked between the bottle and its rightful owner. Connington narrowed his eyes and insisted on the bottle with a shake, sloshing the cola violently. "Come on." 

Another cough prevented Ned from arguing. He tentatively took the bottle and found it warm. Jon must have sneaked it in.

Ned waterfalled a decent gulp and quickly handed the bottle back. Connington took it without taking his eyes off the screen, and he and Ned lapsed into awkward silence. Ned tried to forget the debacle and lose himself to the movie. 

The next forty minutes saw Azor go from prisoner of the highwaymen, to member, to their respected leader. Turns out, the highwaymen weren't bad guys; they fought for the smallfolk, stealing from the rich to give to the poor. Those barrels they stole? Not gold or silver, but salted fish and grain that was later distributed to smallfolk refugees from the Others' invasion residing back at the band's camp. Seemingly overnight, however, Azor transformed them from mere well-intentioned thieves into a lean, mean Others-fighting machines. 

The movie then cut to what Nissa Nissa was up to. Apparently, she was now the slave of that female Other and living in an honest-to-gods ice castle. Like from a holiday special. Built into the side of a snowy mountain and all. Everything was made of ice, even the chairs. And yet, Nissa Nissa was still clad in that chainmail bikini...It turned out betraying Azor hadn't worked out as well as hoped; her father was still imprisoned, as a quick visit down to the ice dungeons showed. The jealous friend hadn't done too well either; Nissa Nissa spotted his head on an icy pike as she followed the female Other around the castle playing personal assistant. Nissa Nissa very clearly regretted her life choices.

Nissa sadly staring out a window segued into the female Other receiving a raven--white, of course--and acting weirdly friendly afterwards. The female Other promised Nissa her father's freedom if she completed a "particular" task, and then started combing Nissa's hair and commanded another enslaved human to fetch a seamstress, saying there were " _many preparations to be made_." Then the movie cut back to Azor. 

A sinking feeling nested in Ned's gut and he squirmed in his seat a little.  _No_ , he thought.  _They wouldn't._ The Lightbringer trilogy liked to tote gore and advertise itself as nitty-gritty and Adult, but everyone knew that it was just a beefed up fairytale. Every kid in Westeros grew up on the story of Lightbringer, Azor Ahai, and Nissa Nissa. Kids all over the world did--same story, different terminology. Ned took a whole class on it last semester. These movies were made in part for those little boys who grew up on cartoons about Azor Ahai now that they were adults. In actuality, most of the audience was made up of teenagers that wanted to _feel_  like adults. Lya and Ben thought they were so mature for being more interested in the Light Bringer trilogy than "kids' stuff" like _The Last Ice Dragon_ and  _The Adventures of Dunk & Egg. _

The filmmakers would never do that to-- _Okay_ , Ned conceded. _Maybe they would_. Because it sounded exactly like something they would throw in just to seem dark and edgy. But Azor would save the day. That was certain. Why else do it aside from giving Azor greater opportunity to look heroic? Ned consoled himself with the fact that even if it did go down that road, everything would work out by the end of the movie by the laws of cinema. 

Still, Ned thought about Lya. She would be heartbroken if something terrible happened to her favorite character. 

Ned glanced over to see if the others were similarly uncomfortable. Sure enough, Elia looked extremely uneasy, and Ashara's lips were pressed in a thin, preemptively disapproving line. The other guys seemed fine, with the exceptions of Arthur Dayne and Jon Connington. Arthur looked similarly uncomfortable next to Elia, and Jon Connington clearly didn't hold expectations for the film any higher than Ashara did. The jury was still out on if it was for the same reason. As many people hated the Light Bringer movies as enjoyed them. 

It was then that Ned realized that the bottle in Connington's cupholder was now filled with candy wrappers rather than cola. Jon had run out of snacks it seemed. 

Seeing his opportunity to repay a debt, Ned nudged Connington's arm. 

"What?" Hissed Connington. 

Ned wordlessly offered his licorice. To his disappointment, Jon grimaced and shook his head. Ned sagged a little in his seat. What was everyone's problem with licorice? Licorice was fine. Ned nibbled sullenly on a length as he turned his attention back to the movie. Azor and his newly acquired army were staging a coup within the Andal kingdom they were residing, backed by Hill tribesmen, in order to acquire an even bigger army. It seemed to make sense to the characters. 

Next to him, Ned heard Jon heave another great sigh and felt a nudge at his arm. "May I please have some licorice?" 

A bit surprised, Ned complied. He watched Jon frown at the thin rope of candy in his hand for half a minute before taking a chomp out of it. Ned let himself feel a bit smug, watching the disdain on Connington's face give way to begrudging appreciation.

The air between them was far more comfortable than it had been previously as they watched Azor Ahai storm the cowardly king's castle, behead the Aegon the Unworthy clone, and look surprised when his comrades crowned him the new king. And so the first act melted into the second, which saw the war between humanity and the Others kick up a notch as Azor's forces managed to recapture fief after fief. All was not well with their hero, however, as he had apparently become fond of camp followers and wine mid-way through Act One. 

Eventually, an awkward transition from an Azor point-of-view shot of a camp follower's barely covered breasts to a shot of Nissa Nissa's bubble-covered breasts in a hot bath saw their heroine's return to the screen. The "preparations" were being finished up, with a bunch of scantily-clad slave woman scrubbing, powdering, plucking, and dressing Nissa Nissa in attire that was somehow more sultry than what she'd been wearing for the past two movies. The actress was either very good or was visibly regretting her contract. 

The Female Other continued to act overly friendly as she escorted Nissa Nissa to a ball. As in, a huge party with ice chandeliers and Dornish red in ice chalices sipped by Others in snow white anachronistic ballgowns and doublets. There was a band of wight musicians sluggishly sawing at ice instruments, Others were doing the Tyroshi Two-Step...

Ned shook his head in disbelief. He glanced down the aisle to see if he was the only one left slack-jawed by the ridiculousness. His eyes found Jon Connonington's in the dark. They were equally wide in incredulity. A smile tugged at the corner of Ned's mouth, then Connington's. Ned managed to contain himself, but he watched Connington lean forward and bite his fist. Even then, his shoulders shook. That almost broke Ned's resolve not to provoke the rest of the audience's ire a second time by snickering, so he focused on the movie. The ridiculous, ridiculous movie.  

On screen, Nissa Nissa seemed to be the guest of honor. What with the way the Others clustered around her, smiling creepily and stroking her arms and shoulders, shoving chalice after chalice of sloshing wine in her hand. It was claustrophobic and unsettling. The edges of the frame blurred as cut after cut of wine slipping past Nissa's blue-painted lips flashed on screen. The last cut, of a single drop making its way down Nissa's chin and throat, lingered ominously with its resemblance to a drop of blood.

Then the doors to the ballroom were thrust open and a gust of frosty wind blew out every candle in the room, leaving the huge hall lit only by moonlight. All the Others jumped away from Nissa Nissa like she was toxic. Only the Female Other remained close at hand, with a meaningful grasp on Nissa's shoulder. Heavy, menacing footfalls made their way towards them, and the hushed crowd frantically parted until a hulking, icy Other loomed large over Nissa in crystal armor and a blood red cloak so long it trailed twenty feet behind him. At last, the Great Other had appeared on screen. 

The next five minutes were heavy with exposition as the Great Other gave a booming speech explaining to all the aristocratic Others the plan they all surely should have known already. His gravely voice shook the ice chandeliers as he explained that they weren't just going to wipe out humanity--no, no, they were too useful as a slave class. But the Others also were established in the previous two films as incredibly racist and they refused to tolerate living on the same planet as humans. So they would _replace_ humanity. How? By breeding with them and creating a sub species. Something the Others personally saw as a charitable action considering how "weak" and "fragile" humans were. 

The sinking feeling was back. Ned looked down the row. Elia was standing up; she tugged at Ashara's arm, but was angrily brushed off as Ashara determinedly leaned forward in her seat, almost as if trying to menace the movie into backing off this particular trope. Angry whispers broke out behind them. Elia hurriedly exited the theater. Ned almost followed after, he didn't want to be there any more than she did, but he couldn't summon the nerve to annoy the rest of the theater further. 

Back on sceen, if Nissa Nissa wasn't horrified already, things only got worse. The Great Other then drew attention to the Female Other--whose name was apparently Nefaria--and congratulated her on her successes. The siege of Nissa Nissa's father's kingdom. The disposal of Azor Ahai. The capture of Nissa Nissa. Nefaria was awarded dominion over all of the East. In a very rehearsed and kiss-ass manner, Nefaria thanked the Great Other for his thanks and then proceeded to offer Nissa Nissa as a gift. Nissa started screaming then, and Ned turned his head because he knew what was going to happen next. 

There was dark, dramatic music and hamfisted dialogue from the Great Other confirming Ned's fears. Nissa screamed, and Ashara cursed over it right before hurling her drink at the screen. The theater erupted with discontent. Some were angry about the dark smear now marring the screen. Some were upset by the developments on it. A girl was crying somewhere behind Ned, and he was reminded of Lyanna. He needed to remember to warn her and Ben. An usher shined his flashlight menacingly on her and Ashara yelled she knew her way out just before proving it. Ned got up and followed her out along with a middle-aged woman who was dragging two teenagers after her. One was the crying girl, the other a confused boy. 

Ned found Ashara and Elia huddled near the entrance. He sat with them, listening to Ashara list out every reason what just happened was bullshit. Elia nodded along. The rest of the group came out just a few minutes later, ahead of the rest of the audience, and joined the huddle. It was the intermission. 

"You shouldn't have done that," Rhaegar chided Ashara. "They're not going to let you back in." 

No one could have blamed Ned for thinking Ashara was about to murder Rhaegar right then and there. She went still as a statue for a second, her violet eyes gleaming murderously, then violently jabbed her finger at Rhaegar's chest. So hard he stumbled back half a step. Her finger surely hurt afterwards. 

"You are such a dunce sometimes! Do you think I want to see the rest of a movie that pulls lowdown, cheap tricks like that to provoke a reaction?" Ashara spat. 

Rhaegar rubbed at his chest, grimacing at the insult. Probably the first that had ever been paid onto him. "But it worked? You reacted... _a lot_. You still are, right now." 

Ashara reeled back and stared at Rhaegar, utterly bewildered. Ned, too, couldn't help being a little wide-eyed at the Targaryen's obliviousness. His friends ranged from bemused to amused. One of Elia's hands slowly reached up to wipe an exasperated expression onto her baffled face. 

Rather than maiming him like Ned half-expected, Ashara heaved a great sigh and threw her hands in the air. She turned to Mooton and asked for his keys. 

"We'll pick you guys up in an hour. In the meantime, we'll...I don't know, shiver our asses off and stargaze by the river. Anything's better than sitting through the rest of that nightmare." Mooton handed over his keys over Rhaegar's protests that he was sure the horror elements were in service of some greater theme or plot. Ashara primly thanked Mooton, and turned to Elia. "You want to come with me and Ned, El?" 

Ned frowned at the question. "Don't I get a say in if I stay or go?" 

Ashara turned to him and blinked. "You want to stay?" 

Maybe not. Ned didn't feel that strongly for the trilogy in the first place, and it had just lost what little favor it had with him thanks to that stunt. _Lyanna's going to be crushed when she finds out._ Be it from watching the movie, something he hoped to prevent, or from friends at school. That wasn't something Ned could easily forgive. But that wasn't the issue at present. "You didn't ask me if I did."  

Ashara frowned disapprovingly back at him, and then for some reason at Elia beside him. Maybe she looked like she wanted to stay, too. Ashara reached for his hand. Ned stepped away. Annoyance flashed in her violet eyes. "Come on, Ned, you don't even like these movies."  

Aside from Rhaegar's obvious horror at the statement, the rest of the group watched this go on with strange interest. In particular, Jon Connington. Ned had no idea why, and he didn't honestly care. He was more concerned with Ashara's attitude. Ned wasn't her pet, not any more than he was Robert's or Brandon's. It was time he made that clear. 

"I paid good money for my ticket. I'm not going to waste it. And...maybe Rhaegar's right. Maybe it will do something besides shock us." 

Ashara sneered at that. "Good luck." She gave Elia one last meaningful look--that meaning landing somewhere between disappointment and aggravation--and then she walked out into the cold night. So ended Ned and Ashara's first real fight. 

Ned watched her go, immediately overwhelmed with regret. He worried first and foremost that Ashara might think worse of him now. More pressingly, there was the problem that he didn't care about the movie at all, and now he'd have to sit through the rest of it. With people he hardly knew. There was Elia, sure, but Ned wasn't exactly friends with Rhaegar even if they'd technically known each other for well over a year. Rhaegar's friends were strangers. What would he do if Ashara didn't join them for dinner afterwards? Hog Rhaegar's girlfriend? 

The girlfriend in question placed a hand on Ned's shoulder and gave it a reassuring rub. "You want some lemon sours from concessions?" She asked. 

That stung a little. "I'm not your toddler." Ned mumbled. 

"Who said I was paying?" Ned huffed a small laugh and dug in his pocket for his wallet. He handed Elia ten bills and asked her to grab him a drink, too. Elia went off with a salute. 

"Richard," Mooton declared abruptly, grabbing his friend's arm. "Let's grab some more popcorn." 

"Screw that, I've still got half a- _oof!_ Oh!" Lonmouth exclaimed. He nodded and darted after Elia, dragging Mooton along. "Let's get some soda, too!" 

Where Ned thought the interaction begged a question or two, Arthur was left chuckling in their wake. He then asked Rhaegar to step out with him for a smoke, as if he wasn't breathless enough. With Rhaegar and Arthur gone, Ned and Jon Connington were left alone in their corner of the lobby. 

They stood in awkward silence. Ned, kicking at the numerous popcorn kernels and wrappers littering the sticky theater floor. Connington, eyeing a nearby pinball machine. It was themed; based off an action movie that Robert and Brandon worshiped about an ex-Myrish mercenary kicking ass and taking names when his girlfriend is kidnapped by Braavosi assassins that were totally not supposed to be knock-off Faceless Men. If Connington didn't play it, Ned might. 

"You got change for a-" "What did you think of-" 

Their mouths snapped shut. Ned and Connington stared at one another in surprise. Then chuckled awkwardly. 

"You first," Said Ned. 

"Ah, thanks," Connington shifted his weight foot to foot. "What did you think of what happened back there? Like...do you actually care?" 

The question surprised Ned, and he didn't know if he was quite comfortable with it. But answering it was better than standing in silence. "Personally, I just find it really lazy. I took creative writing courses in secondary school, and I'm a bit of a movie buff, so it's irritating to watch something like that happen because it's so obvious that it's just meant to shock and make people angry, and make it easier for Azor to look like a hero. Even though he doesn't do anything but-"

"Bitch and moan about prophecy and his girlfriend! Sweet Seven, finally someone else sees it!" That was the first time in almost seven hours that Jon Connington had looked like something inane wasn't ruffling his feathers. Ned dared to think he looked rather happy. After a careful look at the theater doors, Connington continued, "I love Rhae--I mean, he's my best friend and all that, but I do not understand his obsession with this movie at all. It is worse than my mom's bodice-rippers. So much doesn't make sense. That prophecy from the witch was some bullshit, it is simultaneously so vague and so specific. It makes more sense for Nissa Nissa to be the Chosen One than Azor, and she's just supposed to be there for eye-candy."

"Yeah," Ned tentatively agreed. "My sister loves Nissa Nissa, but I'm pretty convinced that up until the last five minutes of the second movie, all the good writing that went into her was pure accident. That, or the screenwriters changed mid production."

Connington looked disappointed in Ned. "A couple fight scenes isn't good writing. She's not even the badass half of the couple anymore. And don't get me started on their so-called romance." Connington had a lot to say about Nissa Nissa and her place in the story. As she was Lya's favorite character, Ned felt the need to offer some token defense. What ensued was a ten minute debate on if the movie even needed a Nissa Nissa if the trilogy was the story of Azor Ahai in name-only. Connington argued no, and that even with Nissa Nissa there, the male relationships were the real highlight of the features. Ned argued that Nissa Nissa was necessary at the very least because someone had to get stabbed with a flaming sword, and the Lannisport bigwigs sure as seven hells weren't going to let it be the greasy-haired highwayman that had been glued to Azor's side since the fifteen minute mark. Connington begrudgingly conceded that point, opening up Ned to lay out Nissa Nissa's thematic significance. It was largely the gist of a tirade he and Benjen had been on the receiving end of from Lyanna when they once questioned the need to give Nissa Nissa a sword. 

The exchange ended in a stalemate, with Elia calling across the lobby that the intermission was over. She handed Ned his candy and soda as he and Connington passed her seat. The room darkened to pitch black, then the screen slowly lit into a dull grey with a noticeable dark spot marring the lower center. 

The audience reunited with Azor at his war council, planning to retake Nissa Nissa's father's kingdom. The plan was laid out cleanly for viewers. So of course everything would have to go wrong. It did. But Azor turned things around quickly enough. With the battle won, Azor looked around the old training yard of the castle and there was a flashback to some moments between him and Nissa in the first film. They reused the footage and everything, except they put it black-and-white. When the flashback ended, it was clear without it being said that Azor was finally going to go and rescue his girlfriend. 

It was then, after a full fifteen minutes, that the narrative checked in on Nissa Nissa. She was laying on a bed of hay in an ice cage suspended several feet off the ground in what looked to be the Great Other's throne room. Despite... _what had happened_ , she looked fine enough. No sadder than what she had seemed before, at least. The only outward sign she was any worse off--aside from the cage--being a bruised cheekbone. 

Ashara had been right. It had been done with no other purpose in mind than to shock and anger the audience for a moment. Ned shifted uncomfortably. Beside him, Connington was similarly put off. That was something, coming from Nissa Nissa's greatest critic. 

On screen, the Others _finally_ caught on to the fact that the humans were kicking their asses. Nefaria was especially pissed about losing her reward and tried to take it out on Nissa Nissa. The attempted murder seemed to snap her out of what little trauma the screenwriters were willing to let her have, and she soundly kicked Nefaria's ass and _proceeded to escape the Others with her father in tow!_  Elia was just one of several women who whooped and cheered. Appreciative murmurs, applause, and fists pumping in the air were abound. Ned was pleasantly surprised, even if he still had every intention to prevent his sister from ever watching this movie. 

The movie cut back to Azor moping in his tent with his new highwayman buddy at night. There was some exposition about a planned rescue mission/final storming of the Others' home base to take place the next day. The highwayman was apparently named Jonny. Jonny tried to comfort Azor by offering him a flagon of wine, then tried to goad him into a friendly spar only to be rebuffed. Finally, the crestfallen ex-outlaw bid his king goodnight, and disappeared out the tent flaps. A moment later, a campfollower entered. 

Azor almost gave in, as he had done many times before, but ultimately he escorted the young woman and her anachronistic perm out of his tent. Halfway back to her end of camp, there was a ruckus, and Azor abandoned the campfollower to wander over to the source. He was met by a beautiful shot of Nissa Nissa riding into camp on horseback, lit to perfection by strategically placed torches and campfires. Their eyes met. The music swelled. Nissa Nissa hopped off her horse and ran to Azor. They kissed. Jonny Highwayman clapped. 

Jon Connington scoffed beside Ned. Further down the aisle, Rhaegar was over the moon. Lonmouth and Mooton were somewhere in the middle. Their seating was incidentally a perfect gradient of audience engagement. Rhaegar with his genuine enthusiasm, Lonmouth with his juvenile wooing at the screen, Mooton who at least didn't hate it, Connington with his distaste, and Ned with his apathy. Ned was more concerned with whether or not Nissa rescuing herself made up for what happened and made it okay for Lya to see the movie. It still didn't sit well with Ned, so the answer was no. 

The movie cut to yet another war council where Nissa Nissa shared the intel she'd gathered while held captive. The third or fourth since the movie began... The scene was actually rather well-lit so Ned took the opportunity to check his watch. Ashara would be back with Mooton's car in half an hour. Ned found it a bit concerning how far they were from the climax. By the time Ashara got back, they'd have been at the theater for close to three hours. Ned hoped they wouldn't drag things out another hour, but that meant making friends with the new sinking feeling in his gut that told him the ending was going to be rushed. 

The big battle kicked off...with little to no tension for anyone who knew the legend of Azor Ahai and knew that this was far from the final battle. As clashing swords sparked--even though the Others' swords were explicitly made of ice--and ice zombies gnawed on fallen soldiers like feral dogs, Ned found himself glancing periodically between his watch and the screen. The gore fest dragged on for an excruciating six minutes, resulting in heavy losses on both sides. Nissa Nissa beheaded Nefaria at the end of the single most well-choreographed fight in the trilogy. Jonny Highway died in Azor's arms. Felled by an arrow meant for Azor. 

The humans retreated into what was unambiguously the Wolfswoods. The first bit of real world geography to be mentioned in the entire trilogy, which got Ned wondering if Nissa Nissa's kingdom was supposed to be the Stormlands after all and not just a generic unnamed pre-conquest kingdom where it rained a lot. Which got him wondering if the Aegon the Unworthy clone was meant to be an actual Valyrian dragonlord or if it he was just based on the archetype. If the Others' ice castle was simply modeled after the Eryie and not meant to be the actual historical site. If Azor was now the King of the Westerlands, since the castle he took looked an awful lot like Casterly Rock (then again, most of the trilogy had been shot in the Westerlands, even the parts that were supposed to be north of the Neck). It didn't make a drop of sense, but Ned didn't put it past them at this point. Who was "them" anyways? The producers, the screenwriters, the director, Lannisport as a whole? 

Ned was finally jolted back to reality by a rock song blaring through the theater speakers, accompanied by the rhythmic banging of metal. On screen the camera panned over a sweaty, shirtless Azor with a hammer in hand. It was a montage. A very long montage. Of metalwork, failure, training with Nissa Nissa, softcore porn with Nissa Nissa, more metalwork, more failure, more training, more sex, repeat. By the third loop, Ned was unabashedly checking his watch. Thank the Gods, the song was winding down and Azor's frustrations were reaching a fever pitch, culminating in a hissy fit that Nissa Nissa walked in on with a ready solution: " _The woodwitch will know what to do_." Cue a mercifully shorter traveling montage. 

Knowing exactly what the woodwitch would say was necessary to craft Lightbringer and not wanting to see a sword shoved through a woman's chest, Ned chose that moment to step out for a bathroom break. He darted towards the door with his head ducked and his shoulders hunched. He didn't realize he'd been followed until he was washing his hands and noticed Connington exiting a stall through the mirror. 

Ned wondered if he should greet him, then wondered if that would be weird since they were in a public restroom. He finished rinsing his hands, leaving only the time it would take for him to dry his hands to make a decision. Of course there were no paper towels. Leaving Ned to fill the oddly echoing theater restroom with the wheezing of a rusted automatic hand dryer while Connington moved to wash his own hands.

 _Girls talk in the bathroom._ Ashara had relayed countless stories to Ned, previously relayed to her while in some campus restroom or getting ready in one of the sorority house's various bathrooms. A fact she always made sure to mention for some reason. The third floor restroom in Strong Hall was oddly popular. That was aside from the point, of course. Ned spent half his life at the Arryn Valley School for Boys, sharing Dorm B with about a hundred other boys at any given time. They only ever talked to each other in the communal bathroom to tease one another about what they were packing under their towels and beg for toilet paper. Ned wouldn't even know what to say to Connington; ask him about his day? The movie? That'd be tiring, all they'd done so far was talk about the dumb movie. 

Ned resolved not to say anything and hope he wasn't making some dire social misstep. He withdrew his hands from the dryer's blast, wondering if he should walk back to their seats with Connington, at least. That quandary took a backseat when the hand dryer kept on going at full force. Ned pressed the button in cautious hopes that that would shut it up: no such luck was on Ned's side this evening.

He set his jaw in annoyance. These things were always so annoying; you couldn't even turn them off once you were done. Ned felt uncomfortable just walking away from it, leaving Connington to deal with the noise. He tried wringing his hands under the blast another minute, as if that somehow might appease the beast. At the very least, Ned's hands were left thoroughly dry. Still, the dryer kept. On. Going.  

"Those things are so stupid." Ned nearly jumped at Connington's voice in his ear. The redhead stood directly behind him, and reached around Ned to smash at the button as Ned had. He made an aggravated noise and knocked his fist against the top. Once, twice, thrice. The dryer died off finally, all right. Just as the chunk of rust clattered to the floor, nearly smashing Ned's toes and definitely smashing _it_ beyond repair.

The two of them jumped back in surprise. They took in their handiwork for a solid minute and a half. Ned was just beginning his estimates on how much the theater might want for the damage when he felt a warm, wet grip on his wrist.

"Come on!" Connington hissed. He dragged Ned out of the restroom like the beleaguered mother of a fussy toddler.

At the entrance to their screening, Ned found his bearings and began to protest. "We can't just leave it. We have to tell the-" 

Connington shoved Ned through the door and his protests were met by angry shushing by the rest of the audience. Embarrassed for a number of reasons at that point, Ned let Connington continue dragging him back to their seats. Lonmouth whistled as they passed so Ned figured they had returned just in time for an impressive action scene or a particularly provocative shot of Nissa Nissa. As they were settling back in to their seats, Ned realized his once bone-dry wrist was wet. 

He looked over at Connington, and not being able to help himself, asked, "Didn't you need to dry your hands, too?" 

Connington stilled in his seat shifting. Then, "Fuck me. Seven ways. To Maiden's Day." Loudly.

There was booing and shouts to "Shut up, you fuckers in the first row." Which in turn was met by rebukes from angry mothers with children who really shouldn't have been there. Someone in the second row threw popcorn. Lonmouth laughed his ass off. Ned sank in his seat. The usher shined his flashlight on Connington. 

"Fuck this movie anyways." Connington declared, standing up. Then, lower, to their group, "See you guys outside." He made no attempt to _not_ obstruct the view of the screen as he made for the door. Except for a single duck when passing Rhaegar. 

Ned sank ever deeper into his seat and watched the rest of the film with his lips sealed. 

On screen, Azor and Nissa Nissa were standing at the peak of a snowy hill at sunset with the fiery, newly-forged Lightbringer between them. The music started building and the epic-ness of the score multiplied with each bar. Azor and Nissa were teary-eyed. They were saying their goodbyes. 

" _You are dearest to me in all the world._ " The famous line courtesy of Azor.

" _If I am not, the world is doomed._ " Was that a joke? The characters flashed tiny grimace-smiles like it was supposed to be a joke. Did Ned miss the set-up? 

There was no time to wonder. The music was reaching its climax. The two lovers stepped away from one another. Azor readied Lightbringer for the strike. Nissa Nissa braced herself, pumped out chest and all. There was one last shot of her closing her eyes. Then the strategic over the shoulder shot of Azor sheathing the flaming sword through her torso. The music cut out abruptly.

Azor withdrew Lightbringer, miraculously clean of blood but steaming. He caught Nissa Nissa's collapsing form. A single tear dripped down his face before he hid it in Nissa's hair. There was a wide shot of them at the top of the snowy hill, a lonely hawk call, and then a fade to black. 

To _another_ war council.

Ned checked his watch one last time. Ashara was probably around to keep Connington company now. 

The broad strokes of the next five or so minutes was exposition of the battle strategy that would inevitably go wrong, shots of Nissa Nissa's body being preserved on a block of ice in a tent surrounded by incense, looking like one of those maidens cursed to sleep until they received True Love's kiss, and more mopey Azor looking into the middle distance. 

The final battle was a pitched affair on an open field that reminded Ned of farmland he passed on his drives back to school at the end of each holiday season. It was the middle of the night. Both sides turned out in full force. Humans from every cultural background armed to teeth and standing shoulder to shoulder. Including what looked to be free folk, hilltribes, and anachronistic Rhoynar. The Others with an equally diverse army of wights. Including but not limited to wight bears, wight moose, wight wolves, wight lions, and wight hawks. The Great Other stood at the helm of the undead zoo. 

It didn't take long for Azor's divide and conquer strategy to fall apart. There were several shaky shots of minor characters whose names Ned didn't remember being felled by flurries of ice arrows, overrun by Others, and/or gored by wights of various phylum. Azor Ahai fought through it all with his glowing sword. Which acted as a nice beacon for both the audience and the enemy when the camera cut away to a wide shot of the battle field. With a wave of his hand, the Great Other sent another wave of his army out, escalating the situation. 

Ned waited for the tides to turn, as was expected with this Lannisport fare. He waited, and waited, and waited some more. Meanwhile, the human forces on screen were decimated by wave after wave of wights and Others. Azor continued kicking ass, stabbing, kicking, and punching his way closer and closer to where the Great Other resided over the bloodshed a top a small slope. Only to be brought to heel by a horde of wights backed by a squadron of spear-wielding Others. Shoved down to the mud and dragged across the war-torn field, up the slope to the Great Other's feet. 

The whole theater was silent. Sans the one guy in the far back anxiously shoving popcorn into his mouth. Ned chanced a look down the row, half worried he'd miss something important. Lonmouth looked confused. Mooton seemed intrigued. Elia and Rhaegar were gripping hands and gawking up at the screen in slack-jawed shock. Arthur Dayne was gripping Elia's other hand. He waved to Ned, clearly more confident in the hero's eventual victory than the rest of the audience was feeling. Ned sat a little more stiffly in his seat despite his former apathy. His posture was finishing school worthy. 

The Great Other proceeded with a booming speech to his victorious army about the failings of mankind and the superiority of their icy race. There was much spear shaking in response. Even the wights groaned their agreement. There were shots of forlorn human soldiers on the ground and being held at sword point. The Great Other basked in it with a smug smirk. He turned to an underling and asked for his sword so he could " _finish off their false prophet_." 

Azor Ahai glared up at the Great Other as he was manhandled into position for his execution. However, he did not fight back. He was resigned to his fate. 

Until--" _Thank the whore for leaving behind a beautiful corpse. She'll make a lovely wight._ " The transformation was instantaneous. The music kicked up a notch to something undeniably awesome and heroic. Azor roared with tremendous fury and broke from the grasp of the two Others holding him in place. In slow-mo, he swung Lightbringer at his captors. He slashed one's legs out from under them, and divided the other in two. They exploded into icy sprays, providing a beautiful effect for Azor's charge at the Great Other. He was met by a timely drawn ice blade to the chest, but the Chosen One gave as good as he got with Lightbringer shoved through the Great Other's ice armor, his tremendous chest, and emerging out his back with a satisfying sound-effect that cued the end of the slow-mo. 

There was a beat. A shot of the Great Other's horrified expression and those of his underlings. Then, the Great Other exploded like a popped balloon, leaving Azor drenched. He was soon followed by all his henchmen. The ice melted away from the wights, leaving them as mere corpses that dropped thereafter. The surviving humans took this all in with the same surprise as the audience before breaking into great cheers of celebration and rushing to their leader's side. 

Before a single man reached him, however, Azor collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest. His men rushed to him with even greater urgency. They surrounded him with concern and reached out to help him to his feet. Azor shooed them off. He allowed a single, somewhat familiar minor character to hold him in their arms as he breathed heavily. They asked how they could help him if not by getting him to a maester as soon as possible. 

His response: " _Move aside. You're blocking the view_." Confused, the men in his line of sight did as he bid, revealing the rising sun on the far off horizon. The music, having been verging on it for a few minutes now, finally veered fully into bittersweet territory as the camera took in the sunset in all its glory, followed by a close up of Azor's morose expression. His eyes slipped closed. There was an immediate audience outcry both in the theater and in the movie. The camera panned up and up to the sky before panning down again to a funeral pyre in the making. 

Ned watched in surprise as both the main characters' dead bodies were carefully placed into a pyre where their bodies were to be cremated. He would never love the movies with the same fervor as Rhaegar Targaryen, but he might just buy a poster sometime out of respect. He started gathering his trash together, as well as Connington's. 

He stopped when Rhaegar whooped with delight. Ned's eyes returned to the screen to find Azor and Nissa Nissa standing in their funeral pyre, naked, miraculously alive, and lovingly pressing their foreheads together. Ned leaned back in his seat. He felt like his eyes were about to roll into the back of his head.  _Lannisport_. He should have known better. Ned went on collecting trash and slipped on his coat. The audience broke out into applause as the epic score faded away, giving way to the rock anthem of the closing credits. Ned marched out of the theater ahead of them. 

Ned was trying to balance an empty cola bottle on the mountain of trash overflowing from the bins when he was found by Ashara and Connington. 

"Well?" Ashara demanded, arms crossed, expression stony. 

Ned sighed and carefully placed the bottle on the floor directly next to the bin. "You were right." 

Ashara's scowl melted away as the ice did from those wights earlier. She smiled and pulled Ned into a firm hug that he returned with some awkward back patting. He could never get used to how tactile Ashara was. Elia, too. Dornishmen were a tactile bunch once you got to know them. Northmen were, too, but Ned had spent most of his life in the Vale. Extreme temperatures had that effect. Connington shot Ned a sympathetic look. He'd known Ashara for longer, so he must have known Ned's discomfort. Stormlanders weren't much cuddlier than Valemen. 

Ashara pulled away with a peck to Ned's cheek for good measure. He wiped it away in embarrassment, very much aware that Connington was watching them. Whatever tease Ashara had on the tip of her tongue was interrupted by the rest of the group joining them. Friendly and unfriendly chatter about the film ensued. Rhaegar and Ashara soon sparked a heated debate on the subject of Nissa Nissa which Elia and Arthur were keen to douse and Mooton and Lonmouth were keen to fuel. Ned took the opportunity to pull Connington aside. 

"What is it?" The apprehension was written on his face so he must have known exactly what it was. 

"We have to tell the manager about the hand dryer." 

Connington's expression soured. "Do you want to get banned for life? We haven't exactly flown under the radar tonight." 

"We need to pay for it." Ned stated firmly. 

Connington rolled his eyes. "They made a killing tonight. A hand dryer isn't going to break the bank." He half turned away from Ned. 

Ned snatched his wrist as he had snatched Ned's earlier. "Maybe not for the theater, but probably for some poor usher." 

"Huh?" Connington asked even as he tugged out of Ned's grasp. 

"My dad owns a big hardware chain. I worked at the local one during holidays. When someone shoplifted a hose or a hammer, it was company policy to take the cost out of the paycheck for whatever employees were working that day. Even me. Lots of companies do it." Ned explained. Connington still looked hesitant, so Ned pressed forward. "There are other theaters in Harroway's Town. We'll survive a lifetime ban." Ned wasn't Rhaegar, he was no musician, but he could see that he had struck the right chord.

Grumbling as he did it, Connington agreed and stuck close to Ned's side as he approached an usher and asked to speak to the manager. Explaining the situation was made easier by the fact the manager was no older than Connington. His frustrations were obvious behind his customer service smile, but were soothed by Ned and Connington's offerings of compensation. They managed to meet the rest of their group at their cars down the street without lifetime bans slapped to their hides and heavy consciences. 

Elia relayed detailed directions to the restaurant to Mooton and Arthur. Still, Rhaegar and his friends didn't arrive at The Myrman's Tank until long after Ned and the girls. They were comfortably seated in a booth by the front window, deep in conversation about the coal miner strikes in the Westerlands, only to be scared half out of their seats by Lonmouth plastering himself against the window like he'd taken a running start. Elia knocked her knees against the table. She shoved Lonmouth when he slipped into the booth next to her and a little scuffle ensued that only ended when Mooton used the booth next to theirs to climb over and worm his way between the tiny Dornishwoman and her foe. Ned moved so she and Rhaegar could at least sit across from one another. 

There were a lot of them, so Arthur and Connington had to pull up chairs from a nearby table. Arthur wanted to visit with his sister so Connington and Ned ended up side by side. It was late, and even the drunken nightclub crowd was on their way out. Ned urged everyone to order to-go so they wouldn't force the staff to stay even later. No one argued. The movie had dragged on forever and a day, not even Rhaegar could argue that, and they were all tired. 

"I've never had Myrish before." Lonmouth remarked as he browsed a menu. He squinted. "What's a caper?" He asked Mooton.

Ned caught Elia hiding a snicker behind her hand. She was always teasing Andals and First Men about their obliviousness to spices, sometimes joking she only dated Rhaegar because he liked food so spicy it made _her_  breathe fire.

Mooton shrugged at Lonmouth's question. "I don't know. Maidenpool doesn't exactly have a thriving Myrish community." 

"But isn't it a big port city? I would've thought you guys would have a ton of immigrants. What with the war with Tyrosh." 

"The only real jobs in Maidenpool are at the docks, for big burly men. Those refugees are all women and children. The moms have to head up river to places like Fairmarket where they can get factory jobs, or out west to pick apples and grapes in the Reach. Harroway has all these big highways passing through it, so there are a lot of service jobs for them. Plus there's all the university students to cater to." Mooton rattled off the information absently as he scanned his own menu. He was likely echoing a professor.

Faculty was always talking about the war between Myr and Tyrosh. Even the hard sciences. It was the first significant clash between the nations in seventy-five years, having lost their taste for war for a time after experiencing the new levels of mayhem made possible by semi-automatic weaponry, and it was an even greater bloodbath than the last one. Both sides hiring particularly shady mercenary companies to bolster their standing armed forces wasn't helping matters. The war had kicked off when Robert had been about to graduate secondary school and was still going strong. In the time since, Myrish and Tyroshi communities had cropped up in cities across Westeros, and reunited families had opened up restaurants like The Myrman's Tank and artisans had finally been able to open new shops. 

"That's sad." Said Lonmouth. "But seriously, what's a caper?" 

"Richard," Arthur interjected flatly. "I'm just going to order you the spiced chicken on a flatbread. All right?" 

"Can I get some date-filled cookies, too? Oh, and this weird-sounding vegetable stew with pickled lemons?" 

"It's your wallet, pal." Mooton warned. 

"What about you, Ned?" Elia chirped across the table. "You're the expert here. What do you suggest?" 

"Expert?" Connington parroted, looking up from his menu. 

"Weren't listening earlier, Jon?" Rhaegar grinned and used his folded menu to indicate Ned. "Stark's mother is a certified globetrotter. Ned spent his last holiday with her in Pentos, and he even spent a few weeks in Myr with her and his siblings before the war broke out." 

Connington _gawked_ at Ned. "You were there?!" 

Ned shrank a little.

"Cool, right? Just super interesting to hear about." Rhaegar exclaimed. 

Ned unfolded his menu again to hide his face, despite having already decided on his order the moment Elia invited him out. "I didn't see anything important. Just a lot of protests in the streets about the magisters being corrupt and the segregation. There was a riot in the capital after police fired on student protesters, and my mother sent me, my brothers, and sister home pretty much immediately." By the time the war started, Ned had returned to school with his freshly developed photos of a pre-war Myr. Those photographs had made him more popular than he'd ever been for a handful of weeks. These days, Ned couldn't believe that the Myr of those photos and the Myr on the news were the same place. 

"Your mom stayed behind?" Asked Connington, aghast. 

"She was living there at the time...In one of those big skyscrapers in the capital. One of the magisters was her upstairs neighbor. She moved to Pentos after he voted in favor of going to war with Tyrosh, just before the first battle." Ned remembered Lya and Ben calling him at school, in tears because Lyarra wasn't picking up her phone. Several-hours-old clips of Tyroshi rockets flying at a small Myrish city on the horizon were playing on every major news network in Westeros. Ned stayed up past midnight, camped out in the dean's office, having begged his way in, waiting for an update. He startled awake at dawn to a ringing phone. Lyarra had left the capital the day before and had been stuck at border between Myr and Pentos all that time they'd been calling her. By the time Ned had been reached, she'd finally arrived at her hotel. "Before we went home, my mom made it a point to take us all around the city to try different foods. We ate at little family restaurants right next to the fish market at the harbor, and she ordered a car to drive us into one of the little towns on the outskirts of the capital to try these rural specialties. Chicken and fish are staples there, and everything is either spicy or sweet. There was this special syrup that they put on desserts along with berries that my siblings all really liked. But my personal favorite is this fried pastry filled with egg, onion, anchovies, and a bunch of spices called a  _brik._ That's what I'm ordering and would suggest." Ned folded up his menu and set it aside, trying his best to signal an end to the topic. 

There was a significant pause before Connington agreed to try the  _brik._ A waitress came around shortly and took their orders. She walked away with orders for enough food to feed a small army. Or rather one Richard Lonmouth and seven normal people. Connington joked to Ned that Lonmouth was such a glutton that he'd eaten his twin in the womb. Ned hoped it was a joke. 

Connington seemed to notice Ned's discomfort and changed the topic. "What's your major?" He quickly added, "I never did ask."

Ned had had this conversation a thousand times since he'd started at Harren. He knew all the steps in this dance. He relaxed and answered, "Journalism. You?"

"Education." 

"Highschoolers?" 

"Nah, think smaller." 

Ned cracked a smile. "You're a masochist. I don't think I could handle one kid let alone a classroom." 

"Just for that, the Mother's going to strike you dead with six kids." Connington jibed. 

They carried on with ease until the numbers of their orders were each called at the front counter. When all eight of them had at least one paper bag in hand--or five in Lonmouth's case--it was time goodbyes were exchanged at the front of the restaurant. Ashara kissed her brother half a hundred times on the cheek and told him not to be a stranger. Rhaegar waved off Mooton's offer of a ride home, saying he'd be spending the night at Elia's, earning a congratulatory pat on the back from Lonmouth. Until Arthur pointed out he was staying at Elia's, too, at which Lonmouth squawked. Ned shook hands with Connington. 

"It really was nice meeting you finally." Ned was being honest, too, not just polite. He hoped his expression showed that. He was well-aware that he didn't always look all that friendly to strangers. 

Connington smiled broadly. A Stormlander grin. "Me, too! I mean-- _you_ , too." He chuckled as his eyes wandered over to the front counter. His arm flew out and snatched up a notepad likely used to write down phone orders along with a pen. "We should do this again. Here's my number. Call me!" He ripped out the leaf of paper and presented it to Ned. Jon Connington, who had started the evening not so much as meeting Ned's eye, was smiling at him genuinely and giving Ned his number.  

Ned took it with a swell of pride in his chest. He had done it without realizing he'd been doing it, just as he had that day in the quad with Ashara and Elia; Ned had made a new friend at H.U. He accepted the phone number with a shy smile and a promise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see! Thank you for reading and please leave comments and kudos!
> 
> If anyone is wondering, I based the Myrish food on Mediterranean and Middle Eastern food. In fact, a brik is a real-life Maghreb dish. Although I don't think they usually put egg AND anchovies together in a single brik. It seems to be a one-meat at a time deal usually.
> 
> I really did try and flesh out modern Terros in this chapter without trying to force things to remain too parallel to our world and the canon of the series. I hope I did well!
> 
> Again, please comment and leave kudos if you enjoyed!


	7. Ashara Dayne III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too Early Sunday morning, Week 3 of the Semester...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Ashara waved Ned off from the car as he headed into his dorm. When he turned back at the door to wave back one last time, she playfully blew him a kiss. Dark as the night was and as far away from the door as she stood, Ashara was sure her Ned's ears were cherry red as he ducked inside for the night. 

She was going to kill Elia for setting him up like that. Actually murder her. With her own stethoscope. Somehow. The logistics could wait. 

Ashara climbed back into Elia's four-door. She smiled faintly at the click of the passenger door shutting as the tension that had been boiling just under the surface the entire ride back to campus with Ned instantly disintegrated the thin veneer of serenity that had existed between the two women. 

"The fuck, El?" Ashara demanded. "Like, the actual fuck is wrong with you? Did you catch some brain-eating virus at the hospital?"

Elia shifted gears without reply. She pulled away from the curb and slowly drove down the block. Ashara gaped at the unabashed rudeness. Elia Martell wasn't  _rude._ Elia Martell was a paragon of courtesy, clean humor, feminism, and maternal instincts. Then again, Elia Martell was also not supposed to go around her best friend's back and set an innocent child up on pseudo-dates with Jon fucking Connington. 

"Elia Nymeros Martell, don't you dare ignore me."

The car idled at a red light. Elia turned to Ashara with an unnerving smile. "You're mad." She said. 

Ashara smacked the dashboard. "No shit, Martell. I can't believe you, El, this is beyond the pale. You disrespected me. You disrespected Ned. Watching Ned step out that door was a slap in the face." It had been nightmarish. One minute, it was just her and Elia lip-syncing to the radio on their way to meet the boys at the theater. The next, Elia was taking an odd turn and parking outside Towers Hall, Ned was stepping outside and waving to them, and before Ashara could turn in her seat and curse Elia to each individual Hell, he was climbing into the backseat and Ashara had been forced to play nice. Until now, where she sounded painfully like her own mother. "What were you _thinking?_ " For the first time in the history of their friendship, Ashara doubted Elia had been thinking at all.

Elia kept on smiling, clearly believing herself the height of brilliance. "I was thinking that the Mother and Maiden combined couldn't have made a better match and I was  _right_." She had clearly lost it. 

Ashara shook her head in disbelief. " _You're_ mad, that's what you are. Like, old school Targaryen mad." She could give her boyfriend's twelfth great-grandfather a run for his money. Or however far back he was related to that dynasty. 

"They liked each other!" Elia insisted. 

"Ned was being polite!" Ashara shot back. "Ya know, that thing that you were the exact opposite of when you went behind my back and fixed this all up?" 

"They-" A sharp honk behind them cut Elia's bullshit defense short. Yet it was not enough to jolt the sense back into her. "They liked each other." Elia continued confidently as she turned the steering wheel to the right. The thing she was absolutely not in. 

"It doesn't matter even if they did." Ashara argued. "Ned didn't deserve to be set up like that. Things could have gone to shit real quick with that attitude of Connington's. He saw what was happening and all but snarled his way through half the night. He could've done worse! That could have easily ended up the most humiliating experience of Ned's young life. He's just a _kid_ , El." 

Elia rolled her eyes at her. _Excellent_ , now Ashara could unsafe driving to her list of Elia's shocking attributes. "You kind of lose the right to coddle a nineteen-year-old when you took said nineteen-year-old's virginity upstairs at a house party two months into your friendship with him, Ash."

Ashara felt like she'd had a dose of concentrated fury shot straight into her bloodstream. " _That is beside the point!_  " It had been a mistake. She and Ned didn't talk about it, and Elia only had that information because she had stood guard outside the door. Back then, _Elia_ had been the sensible one between the two of them and had chided Ashara later that evening back at the sorority house about muddying the waters between her and Ned.

" _He clearly has a crush on you. I hope you were clear with him about what that was_." She'd said before launching into an extensive lecture on the imbalance in Ashara and Ned's relationship, going as far as to compare it unfavorably against her lack-luster relationship with Rhaegar. Because for all its monotony, it was an equal relationship. 

Ashara was part of the Women's Protection League on campus, but that incident had made her well aware of her own capacity to be predatory. Ned was younger than her, with fewer friends at Harren, and as many of the uncomfortable situations he ended up in those early days were Ashara's fault as they were Robert's. Ashara had thought Ned was cute in both senses of the word. She'd treated it like a game to see what antics she could push him to, thinking herself charitable for forcing him out of his shell so ruthlessly, and she had been thinking since their first meeting that he might be fun to take a tumble in the hay with. She'd decided to test that theory at a house party in the nearby Harrentown--which wasn't good for much more than house parties with townies, cheap alcohol, and cheap hotels for visiting family--without much prior consulting with Ned. A while into the festivities, she'd simply wrapped herself around his arm and tugged him upstairs. Ned had never formally complained about what happened that night, even when Ashara had come to him with apologies and metaphorical chalk to draw the lines in their relationship, but it was still a source of great shame for Ashara. 

Elia slowed to a stop at yet another red light. "Really? Because one might wonder if you're maybe a little jealous."

Ashara was not a violent person. Nine in ten of her death threats were facetious and/or hyperbolic. The leftover one in ten were reserved for the scumbags who lurked outside the Women Protection League's club room, stalking their exes typically, right before she hurled a miscellaneous office supply at their heads. In that moment, however, Ashara very nearly became a violent person. Instead, she climbed out of the car. 

"What are you- _Ashara_ _!"_ Elia called out. 

Ashara ignored her and started off down the sidewalk in the direction of the sorority house. Elia followed in her four-door. 

"Ashara, it's cold and dark out. Get in the car." She pleaded. Ashara went on ignoring her. Her arms wrapped around herself for warmth and her chin held up in defiance. "I'm sorry!" Elia said. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. Please get back in." It was only half of what Ashara wanted to hear, so she kept on walking. Elia kept pleading and apologizing, Ashara ignoring, and before long, they were in front of the sorority house. 

Elia was about to pull to a stop and get out, Ashara could tell. She nipped that in the bud with a curt, "Goodnight, Elia." That gave her friend enough pause that Ashara made it inside the house without further pestering. Through the blinds of the living room window,she watched Elia drive off minutes later. 

It was well past midnight and all the girls who hadn't paid Harrentown a visit that night were in bed. The girls who had gone out wouldn't be due back for another few hours or later. Ashara tiptoed upstairs, took out her contacts, washed off her makeup, and changed into her pajamas. She threw her hair into a bun and stuck in her retainer for the night before digging her glasses out of her bedside drawer. Physically, she was ready for bed. Mentally, she was ready a drink. 

So, Ashara found herself licking her fingers clean of oil from Myrish takeout and sipping on a bottle of cheap beer at the kitchen island at four in the morning. The backdoor opening pulled her away from her brooding. 

"Prez," Casselle Manwoody gasped. Then giggled. "I thought you were Mama." She stepped fully into the kitchen and teetered on her feet once she let go of the doorknob. 

Ashara smiled at her sorority sister making her way across the kitchen like a newborn fawn. "Hey, Cassey." She pulled out the nearest stool and patted it. "Take a load off." 

Casselle nodded eagerly as she stumbled over. She balanced precariously on the stool until she gathered wits enough to cling to the edge of the counter top. "What're you doin' up?" She slurred. 

Ashara ruffled her hair and ignored the question. "Let's get some liquids in you." She said. Ashara went to the sink and filled a glass with water. Once Casselle had chugged it, Ashara was left with a choice. She could put Casselle to bed like a good chapter president, or she could take advantage for the sake of her own curiosity. She chose the latter. 

"Cassey," Ashara said, taking a seat at the island again. "What were _you_ doing?" 

Drunk, Casselle didn't even have enough brain power to whip up one of her terrible lies. She broke out in a fit of giggles and shook her head. "Can't say. I _promised_ ~!" 

"Uh huh, does that have anything to do with you needing the phone a few days ago?" 

"Yep," Casselle chirped. She furrowed her brow. " _Waiii_ -no! No, it doesn't, I mean-" Her distress evaporated into giggles. Which in turn devolved into whining and sniffling. "I _promised_ , Ashara, you made me break my stuuuuupid promise!" She threw her arms around Ashara and buried her face in her neck. Ashara patted her back and waited for her to calm down. 

"I'm sorry, I was just curious...I mean, it's a little weird for your mom to go to bed _so_ early." 

Casselle leaned back so fast that she nearly fell off her stool. Ashara pulled her back just in time. "Mama go to be  _early_ ?!" Casselle laughed. "Nope, nope, nope, she's worse than _you_ , Prez." 

"Then why did you need to call so early?" Ashara inquired innocently. 

"Because I had to call before his wife got home, _duh!_ " Casselle's umpteenth fit of giggles caught in her throat when she realized what she'd just said. She gripped Ashara's arms, shook her like a madwoman, and begged, "I didn't say that--forget that! I didn't say it!" 

Ashara pried away Casselle's fingers. "Okay, all right, you didn't say that. I didn't hear it. Let's talk about something else."

Casselle relaxed and moved to perch on her stool like a drunken bird. "What about?" 

"Um," Ashara looked around the kitchen. The sink, the cabinets, the back door, the chore wheel on the fridge. "Ummm..." Her eyes fell on the Myrish takeout left in front of her, and her mood immediately soured. "Let's talk about betrayal." 

"I didn't do it!" The protest stumbled out of Casselle's mouth. 

Ashara blinked. "Wha-"

"Ravella did it!" 

"Did wha-"

"Ate all your lemon snack cakes and put the box back in the cabinet after." Casselle confessed with the speed of a guilty child. 

Ashara took a moment to digest that. Then resented all the snack cakes she never got to digest. "Which time?" She asked slowly. 

"All the time." Casselle said with a shrug. Ashara had half a mind to march upstairs and dump a bucket of ice water on Miss Swann in her sleep. But she was probably spending the night with that garage band boyfriend of hers. Revenge would need to be rescheduled for tomorrow at the earliest. Right now, Ashara needed to decide whether to seek revenge on Elia or not. 

"That's not what I was talking about, but thank you for sharing. What I meant was..." Ashara was not going to name names. But the tired 'I have this friend' shtick wouldn't fly even with a drunk Casselle. "You're a history major. You must know a lot about friends in history going behind each other's backs and doing things that could screw up everything, up to and including the sacred thing known as female friendship." 

"Ohhhh,  _definitely_." Casselle nodded vigorously. "I did a midterm paper on somethin' like that. Queen Sepia and Shaera Brother-Fucker!" 

"Queen Sepia?" Ashara didn't remember there ever being a Queen Sepia in Westeros. Maybe she was some pre-colonial Sothoryi monarch. 

Casselle snorted. "My bad. That's not her name. Well, that was Shaera's name, yeah, she totally fucked her brother. A lot. I meant to say Queen  _Celia_. Anyway, in 242-no, 243-wait, that's not it either! Let me think, I know this-"

" _Casselle_."

"Oh, all right! In 240-whatever, before she was actually Queen, Celia found out that her husband was still totes into his sister and they had been doing to the do behind everyone's back. Celia was royally pissed-" Casselle giggled at her own little joke. "-Celia was pissed...because she thought she and Shaera were tight. But Shaera had been lying, like, the whole time! What a bitch move, right? She got hers, though. Celia talked to King Egg about it, and got Shaera shipped back to Highgarden so she could fuck her own husband for a change. They never became friends again. Not ever. Even after Jae-hairy-knees became King and brought his sister back to court. Actually, probably  _because_ Jae Jae couldn't keep his hands to himself." 

Interesting, fucked up story, but not parallel enough to Ashara's own situation to be of much help. "What about people in history going behind their friends' backs to arrange marriages?" She tried instead. 

Casselle gasped with delight. "That's how the Targaryen dynasty ended!" 

Ashara was ninety percent sure it wasn't, but she wanted to be an astronomer not a...whatever people do with B.As in history, so she let Casselle go on. 

"Yeah, soooo, King Egg married off all his kids to really important people in the Seven Kingdoms because he was like, 'incest is grody, let's not do that anymore'. Which, cool! And his queen was like, 'cool!' And everybody  _but_ his kids was like, 'cool!' Prince Dunky married some flowerchild chick, and Jae-whatever-his-name-is-Sister-Fucker tried to run off with his sister, but their mom and dad were like, 'no, that's gross. what the fuck is wrong with you?' So they had to marry some people they couldn't stand like everybody else. Fast-forward twenty something years, everyone not gross dies in a fire - because King Egg was cool, but he was kind of a crazy son of bitch, too. Anyway, King Sister-Fucker became king and tried to marry the princess--his daughter; he and Celly only had the one kid because Jae-hairy-knees could only get it up for his sister for some reason--he tried to marry her to one of his probably bastard kids with Shaera. Like, she told everyone they were Tyrells, but everyone was like, 'yeah,  _sure_ , Shae.' So everyone knew they were fake roses--and fake roses _suck,_ I hate when people use them in their houses or for their dates, like, you cheap fuck, they're so ugly, and what were we talking about?  _Oh!_ Soooo everyone was like, 'Jae-hairy-knees, you can't do that' and 'Jae-hairy-knees, incest is gross. Marry your kid to mine instead.' And Celia was like, 'Dude, no' and Jae-hairy-knees was like, 'Dude, yes.' And Shaera was like-" 

Casselle went _on and on_ about how, in short, the Targaryen dynasty came to an end because "you can make your kid marry somebody, but you can't make them fuck that person exclusively." Ashara tried to pay attention at first. She kept up pretty well up until the Second Less Fiery Dance of Dragons broke out between Shaera's so-called Tyrell children, Prince Daeron's maybe kids with Olenna Redwyne (Casselle argued that Olenna was way smarter than Shaera and wouldn't have dared screw a man besides her gay husband, but sadly no one at the time really believed her), and Princess Rhaelle's Baratheon daughters after Jaehaerys and Princess Shaena both kicked the bucket. Ashara quickly lost track of who died fighting who, who switched sides, who married who in order to seal an alliance, and who ran off to Essos. Then the Golden Company showed up, and Maelys the Monstrous was crowned King for like a week or something, and Ashara was as lost as Jeremy Targaryen was purportedly at sea. 

It didn't help matters that Casselle kept getting distracted. First, when she finally noticed that Ashara was wearing glasses. 

"They're so _thick!_   How do you see in these? Can I wear 'em? Lemme wear 'em! _Seven Hells_ , yer blind, Prez!" 

Then, she spotted the long cold takeout sitting right in front of them and asked to have the rest. 

"Eddie's dull as dirt but he has great taste." She remarked right before shoving half a cold chicken flatbread down her gullet.

Not to mention the tangents. 

"Daeron was a cool dude. Really good lookin', too, in his tiny ring portraits. I'd totally go back in time and do him, but I don't have the parts and even if I did, his boyfriend would cut them off if I tried anything."

The many, many tangents. 

"Rohanne Lannister should have her own movie, man. She was sooooo awesome. But nooooo, instead Lannisport wants to make another fucking buddy cop film with that jackass Damion! _They're focusing on the wrong Lannister, gods damn it!_ " 

And every time a door opened somewhere in the house, Casselle _had_ to know who was getting in. 

"Jeyne, Bethany, how was Bryan's party? Oooooh, was Freddy there? Yer blushing, he totally was!" 

The sky was a light grey outside when Casselle let out a lion-like yawn and wrapped up the history lesson. "So, Rhaelle was like, 'fuck you, sis' and left her in Essos, and Shaera ended up having to stay married to the Archon of Tyrosh, and he put her in a tower. Like in a fairytale! Anyways, when she got back, Rhaelle took her last living daughter Rhaella--that's fun:  _Rhaelle Rhaella Rhaelle Rhaella Rhaelle Rhaella~!"_

"You're drunk, how do you have better diction than me when I try that seashell thing?"

"Not drunk!" Casselle protested in a drunken slur. What was probably meant to be a boop on the nose would have poked Ashara's eye out if not for her "thick as fuck" glasses. " _Tipsy!_ And let me finish, yoooou interrupter you. Where was I? Oh, Rhaellalala! Yeah, so she came back home and she married this Harbert guy because her mom said so and they were happy, and became King and Queen, and that's how the Baratheon dynasty started. Ohhhh, do ya wanna hear how they ended? _Basically_ , everything was hunk-dory until the Golden Company attacked with this old guy claiming to be the long lost Jeremy Targaryen and he-" 

Ashara stood up and made Casselle to do the same. "That sounds cool, but maybe later. Right now, let's get you to bed, sweetie."

"Awwww, but it's such a great story." Casselle griped the whole way upstairs to the room she shared with Cerenna Vance. Who had just gotten with a gaggle of other girls. Once she had her own heels pried off, she moved to help Ashara undress Casselle. They got off her shoes, jewelry, and jean jacket and left her to sleep in her dress and fishnets. She was out the minute Ashara pressed her down to the mattress and her head collided with the pillow. Ashara rolled her over so she'd puke in the trash bin by her bed before leaving.

The sorority house was bustling in a sleepy sort of way. Half the house was getting up while the other half was getting to bed. The showers were running full blast and the stairs were creaking as girls made their way up and down. Tired groans and whispers flitted through the cool morning air. Ashara peeked into bedrooms as she passed, checking in on everyone. 

Della, Eleanor, and Tall Jeyne were all fast asleep, with buckets placed strategically next to their beds in Jeyne and Elaenor's cases. 

Alysanne Stoneman was found sitting at her vanity mirror, wiping away ruined mascara. She said it was nothing, but Ashara made note to check in on this later.  

Bethany had woefully miscalculated how much time she'd have to sleep before heading into a sadistically early shift at the university dining hall and was zombie-walking her way through her morning routine. Short Jeyne was zipping through hers with her usual entirely uncalled for chipper attitude. Rose had found a nice middle ground.

There was a guy asleep in bed with Morgan Wylde. Her roommate Maerie Farmer was straight up missing still, along with at least six other girls. Ashara would sit them down to for a refresher on house rules later. 

The Riverson Twins were wide-awake in their darkened bedroom, playing that dumb video game with the single white pixel ping-ponging across the screen. Some relic their parents had sent them in the mail that had promptly ruined their lives. Neither girl had gone out on a weekend night in months. Tonight, it was clear they hadn't been to bed, either. 

Ashara shoved up her glasses and rubbed at the bags under her own eyes. She hadn't meant to stay up all night. Sweet Seven, she didn't even have an essay to show for it. Ashara bumped into someone while rubbing at her eyes and looked up to find Rhonda Rowan with her hair wrapped in a towel and a cup of coffee in hand, looking perfectly fresh.

"Don't tell me you just got in." She said. 

Ashara took offense to Rhonda's tone. " _No_ ," She responded. "I got in hours ago. It's just Casselle's been talking my ear off." Ashara sighed, feeling bone tired. She wiped her face with both hands. "I don't know what I was thinking, asking a drunk history major to solve my problems via a historical retrospective."

"Which problems?" 

"Huh?"

Rhonda shrugged. "I would have asked 'what' problems, but we all know you've got problems, Prez. Better just to ask you to be specific." She then sipped her coffee. 

Ashara would have snatched it away from her if not for the fear of everything going completely and totally wrong and someone ending up burned. Instead, she crossed her arms and acted like the adult of the house. Which she had been voted to be. Over Rhonda. A fact that Rhonda needed to be reminded happened for a reason. "If you  _must_ know, Rhonda...a friend of mine...did something I'm not happy about, behind my back. And they won't admit that it was a messed up thing to do, or that things could have gone to Hell real quick, and- _arghh!_ " Ashara was not an adult, who was she kidding? "She made me so angry and all she could do was throw it back in my face like  _I_ was doing something wrong and being immature when she's the one walking around with less than pure motivations!" Ashara froze; her cheeks burned as she realized she been flinging her hands about like a crazy person while talking entirely too loudly about her personal issues. 

Rhonda gawked at her. Instead of some smart-ass remark, she said, "That doesn't sound like Elia. Are you sure you guys aren't just miscommunicating?" 

"Who said it was Elia?" 

"Your defensive tone just then." Rhonda looked around and pulled Ashara into the nearest room, a bathroom. She locked the door and sat with Ashara on the edge of the tub. "You guys don't usually fight so badly that you have to use that 'I have this friend' shtick. You're usually so out in the open about your problems. Is this serious or are you just that tired?" It was the first sentence Rhonda had directed at Ashara in months that didn't come laden with resentment and/or condescension. 

Ashara was grateful to have one person in her life back to normal. Maybe it was some sort of sick cosmic trade-off for Elia. "Rhonda, you have idea what kind of night I've had." Ashara told her everything. About Jon Connington and Rhaegar, and Elia and Ned, and what had happened in the car earlier that night. By then, Ashara had felt like she'd relived it and she was angry all over again. Rhonda told her she had every right to be. 

"That was totally out of line, Ash. Elia shouldn't have done that."

"Right?" Ashara was glad to see that Rhonda was on her side. If Rhonda was on her side, she had to be in the right here. 

"It wasn't fair to you, Ned, or Connington." 

"That's what I've been saying!" 

"You need to sit Elia and Ned down and set the record straight." 

"I should." It sounded like a good plan. 

"And, well, if Elia doesn't like it, too bad!"

"Yeah, too bad!" 

"And if she won't let this bone go, I could take care of the chapter while you deal with her." 

"Yeah, you shou-" Ashara's mouth snapped shut. She turned to Rhonda and laughed. "Yeah, nice try." 

Rhonda's mouth twisted into an ugly line. "Come on, Dayne."

 _Oh no_ , Ashara thought. She hadn't been joking.  "They voted for me, Rowan. Elia endorsed me. Not you." Ashara reminded her. 

"You just got through telling me about how Elia is playing puppet master with the love lives of two innocent homosexuals. She isn't an infallible god." 

"What're you trying to say?" Asked Ashara, standing up from the tub. 

Rowan followed. "I'm saying we all make mistakes, Dayne." 

"Oh really?" 

"Really."

" _Really_ _?_ " 

" _Really._ "

Ashara and Rhonda stood nose to nose. Or would have, had Rowan not been unfairly tall. Ashara opened her mouth to crack a giant's blood joke.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

What sounded like three individual fists hammered at the bathroom door with the force of a battering ram. "Get out of that bathroom right this second, or so help me, the Gods themselves will not stop me from force feeding you both orange juice and mint toothpaste!" Bellowed Melessa Crakehall. She was not one for idle threats. Ashara and Rhonda burst out into the hall and went their separate ways. Ashara darted down the hall, up the attic staircase to the chapter president's bedroom. 

She dove into bed and headfirst into a pleasant black void of dreamless sleep at long last. 

When Ashara awoke, Sunday was almost over and she had a whole list of things to do. She answered her mail, writing back her grandparents and responding to the inquiry from the institution in Qaarth about her continued interest in their internship program, followed by official chapter business, then she hit the books. After two hours neck deep in mathematics, Ashara moved on to her daily rounds of the house. She checked in on Alysanne Stoneman and had a little heart-to-heart, and she reminded Morgan that boys weren't allowed to spend the night in the house per university code of conduct regarding sororities, and the little old lady across the street was a rat so remember to hustle boys out the back door when finished with them. She asked the Riverson Twins when they'd last been outside. They were surprised by their own answer. Later, Ashara led the weekly chapter meeting and reminded everyone about the bake sale they were taking part in at the next big sporting event on campus, their game against the Gulltown Seabirds. Afterwards, she pulled aside a few girls to sternly remind them of the academic requirements of their memberships. She gave one girl the number of a good tutor. The other didn't seem too bothered by her failing grades. After their little chat, the three of them all sat down to a dinner of miscellaneous takeout together with the rest of the house, per weekly tradition. 

Ashara had just put in her retainer when she remembered the one item left on her do-list. 

She kicked open the ajar door to Ravella Swann and Mariya Darry's room. She stepped over the threshold and put her hands on her hips. Ashara looked Ravella dead in the eye and whispered, barely heard over Tom's mixtape blasting on the stereo, "I know." 

Ravella breathed slowly through her nose and closed the book in her lap. A condemned prisoner steeling themselves for execution, Ashara thought with a smirk. Instead of rising to her feet, however, Ravella reached under her bed and pulled out a bulging box proudly emblazoned with the Lemonwood Lemoncakes logo. She shook it once and a mountain of pristine lemon snack cakes appeared on her bedspread. 

After recovering from the initial shock, Ashara eyed the pile appreciatively. "All is forgiven." 

Ravella nodded once and returned to her book. Ashara claimed her prize and made herself scarce. 

She returned three seconds later. 

"Actually, no. Forgiveness is on hold until such time as you help me solve a problem I'm having." 

"Which problem?"

"Get out, Mariya." Ashara and Ravella spoke in unison.

The exile threw down her magazine in a huff and made for the door. "Whatever, last time I try and be be funny." 

Alone, Ravella set her novel aside completely and crossed her legs. It was a breath of fresh air for Ashara to see someone besides her philosophy teacher sit like that, and not on a desk either. Ravella actually looked pretty alert, even. She led the conversation with, "Two questions before we get down to business. One, why me?" 

Ashara didn't beat around the bush. "Well, you handled that situation with perfect composure just then, and I could use the input of someone with a level-head with no obvious reasons to subvert my authority on this matter." 

"Okay...Two, which problem _are_ we talking about? Because I may be levelheaded but I am certainly no miracle worker." 

Ashara decided to ignore the 'which' and focus on her wording. "I'm going to be straight with you, Swann. Last night almost went up in flames because someone I know _isn't_ straight and he's head over heels for the wrong person." 

Ravella reclined against her headboard. "Oh, I can handle that. I know a  _ton_ of gay guys with the crowd I run with. Tom's band is popular with the counter culture crowd, so he gets gigs at gay bars all the time. Just tell me about the guy and I'm sure I could come up with a few different dudes to set him up with." 

"Okay, first, where were you a week ago? Second, this will be useful information later. Thank you. Third, we're kind of beyond the blind date stage at this point and that's the source of my problem. Don't worry, I'm gonna try my damnedest to circle back around." 

Ravella looked at Ashara like she was afraid she was contagious. "The Seven Hells are into, Dayne?" 

It took a while, but Ashara managed to lay out the situation end to end without implicating Elia, Ned, or Jon Connington. "I tried asking two people for help already. But one of them tried to usurp me, and the other advocated a bloody war of succession." Ashara finished her sordid tale. She wolfed down a lemon snack cake to smother the fine mix of anger and exasperation churning in her gut with sugar and lemon zest.

Ravella listened attentively, nodding where appropriate and humming noncommittal responses at Ashara's various rhetorical questions. At the end, she finally offered her in-put: "Simplest solution, clear the air with everyone involved. Starting with the guy friend who got set up and kind of outed without his consent. Explain what happened behind the scenes if he didn't figure it out, apologize, do whatever's gotta be done to make this right. Knowing the truth, he's probably not going to be keen to see lover boy again, so there goes the wannabe matchmaker's plan right there, and you guys can start fresh if she's still bent on getting the guy laid. Sound good?" 

"Sounds too easy." Ashara replied as she stood from Mariya's bed. She paused at the door. "Just one last question. Why were you hoarding snack cakes under your bed?"

"I'm a poor college student whose family doesn't talk to her anymore because of her taste in boys. There's a whole pantry of food these rich girls won't miss under my bed. The only reason you noticed is because you are the kind of person to eyeball your milk jug every time you take it from the fridge just to be sure no one else's making cereal with it." Ravella explained as she settled back in with her book. 

"I noticed because you were dumb enough to take the last one." Ashara shot back, offended at the very accurate statement.

Ravella casually turned a page in her novel. "Tsktsk. Played by a Manwoody. You and Stark really are a pair." 

The dots connected in Ashara's head, a constellation of betrayal and embarrassment at having been had by a drunk Second Year. She took her lemon snack cakes and went off to find Casselle so she could pelt her with them. 

* * *

Ashara met up with Ned for their weekly lunch. She was ten times more nervous for this week's meet up than she had been for the last one. Ned had held his ground on not being set up, how angry would he be with her about it happening anyway? Ashara didn't think for a minute that he would flip out on her, but she half-worried he wouldn't show up to their lunch. No one could give a cold shoulder like Ned. His could give frost bite. Ashara was relieved when she found him in the dining hall, but still worried he'd be short with her. 

Ashara took her seat with a smile. Ned returned it, surprisingly. 

"Hey," She greeted him. 

Instead of bursting forth with some accusatory question about what happened over the weekend, or even simply inquiring what the hell she and/or Elia had been thinking, Ned replied with a simple, "Hey." 

Ashara digested that, and asked, "So...how's it going?" With a stretched, meaning laden syllables and everything.

Ned gave a single shrug as he stirred his soup. "Fine enough. Been working on this throwback piece for the university newspaper. The Editor wants to do something to boost morale for the game against the Gulltown Seabirds by republishing some photos and quoting from an article about the last time we actually won against them. I'm knee-deep in the 50s right now and I still can't find it. I feel like I'm on some quest for an ancient artifact pivotal to defeating the Evil Overlord of the land." 

"Need any help?" After all that had happened, Ashara was about to jump on any opportunity to make up for Elia's nonsense. An evening in the dusty library basement was worth a cleaner conscience. 

Sadly for her quickly-developing guilt complex, Ned waved her off. "No thanks, Griff's already offered to lend me a hand." 

Ashara did a quick perusal of her mental catalogue of friends, acquaintances, and enemies. She didn't know anyone named Griff, and this was the first time Ned had mentioned one to her. She had no choice but to ask, "Griff who?" 

"Connington," Ned clarified. He scratched bashfully at his neck. "Sorry, fell into the habit of it a bit fast, I guess."

Ashara hid her shock behind a generic smile, denoting neither especial glee nor crossing over into blatant falsehood. She broached the subject with all the tact in her being. "You two can actually stand each other?" 

Ned put aside his spoon with a sigh. "Connington's like me. We both come off pretty cold at first, but you should know for a fact that neither of us is made of stone." 

"I just mean...I didn't think you guys would run into each other so soon, or that you would hit it off well enough for Jon to volunteer like that." Ashara didn't think Ned would ever want to look at Connington again, let alone take help from him after what had happened. _Maybe_ , she wondered,  _he's just being polite again? The both of them, actually._ Connington had figured out what was going on, but by the end of the evening at least, in spite of all Ashara's fears, he didn't seem to hold a grudge against Ned. He'd probably realized that Ned was just as much a victim as himself. Ashara came to the conclusion that she and Connington had been following the same line of thought and had both been willing to choke on dust in the library basement in order to make things right between them and Ned. "I thought for sure the other night was going to go up in flames." Ashara confessed.

Ned shot her a sour look. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ash." Before Ashara could apologize, Ned continued, "It didn't though. I actually called Connington the next day, after I worked up the nerve, and we made plans for lunch yesterday. I told him about what he missed during the movie, and then we got to talking about a bunch of other movies. We talked about a lot of stuff, really, and somehow we wound up talking about the school newspaper and the goose chase they have me on. Turns out Griff used to work in the library with Rhaegar, so he offered to help out. We're eating dinner together on Thursday and heading straight to the library afterwards. 

"So right now, I'm really glad I went to that movie." Ned said with one of the lightest expressions Ashara ever had the luck to see on his face. It reminded her of the day she met him. It overwhelmed Ashara with equal parts happiness for her friend and relief. That night hadn't left Ned hurt. Far from it. She reached across the table to squeeze his hands. 

"I'm glad you're glad." She replied. 

Ned's cheeks burned as he untangled their hands with an embarrassed expression. "That's great. I'm glad, too...that you're glad that I'm glad. It's just kind of embarrassing that something like this took so long." 

Ashara smiled at his bashfulness. She wanted to assure him that there was absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, but she knew that it might only exasperate things. Instead, she asked, "What's with the nickname? That certainly didn't take long." 

Ashara listened to Ned's explanation. How the old headmaster at his boarding school was named Jon as well and Ned had kept up correspondence with his mentor, using the man's given name at his insistence, which made having a second Jon in his life feel just a bit strange. There were too many Jons in the world, but shy Ned Stark had only ever kept company with one until this past weekend. Connington had kindly offered up an old childhood nickname at lunch yesterday: Griff, after his old public school district's mascot. At his own boarding school, Connington had apparently worn the old T-shirts with the school name and mascot often in his first year there, and it soon became a way of differentiating him from the one hundred other Jons at the New Duskendale Academy for Young Men. Both of them having attended all boy boarding schools was apparently good bonding material for Ned and Connington.

The two of them spent the rest of their hour together ripping on the _Light Bringer_ movies, debating the virtues of various professional athletes, and even discussing  _themselves_. The idea of Ned Stark and Jon Connington opening up to one another just about floored Ashara, and she spent the rest of her own hour with Ned wheedling details out of him. She didn't get much, but when she left him for her next class, Ashara felt simultaneously confident that Ned was off to a good start and irked about that fact.

She sat on those feelings for the rest of her school day. Then she swallowed her pride, climbed into her car, and headed towards Harroway's Town. 

Ashara knocked on Elia's door and prayed she was home from the hospital. She hadn't wanted to ruin the effect of showing up like this by calling ahead. 

The Gods were good; Elia answered the door. Ashara took her in, just to be sure this wasn't a bad time. No date night dress, bath towels, sexy lingerie for Rhaegar (Ashara immediately scorched that idea from her memory for eternity), or even her hospital scrubs. Elia was wearing her ugly at-home glasses with the frames that sat comfortably on her nose and her cat-themed pajamas, bunny slippers included. Ashara didn't need to wonder why she was ready for bed at four in the afternoon. Medical residents slept when they could. 

In-take complete, Ashara leveled Elia with her sternest look (one that would make her mother cry tears of pride) and spoke slowly. "You were right, but for all the wrong reasons." 

Elia blinked tiredly at Ashara, and her head tilted ten degrees to the left. The exact angle of confusion. "Yay?" She responded uncertainly. 

"Just let me in. The weatherman lied and I didn't dress to have this conversation to happen on your doorstep." Elia wordlessly let Ashara inside. A few minutes later, Ashara had a cup of warm tea with lemon and enough sugar to induce diabetes instantly in hand, and was sat with Elia on the couch. Rhaegar was somewhere in the back of the apartment, twanging random notes out of his guitar and muttering song lyrics psychotically to himself. Ashara would have bet that he'd been at it for hours before she'd arrived. 

"So..." Elia paused meaningfully as she stirred her own tea. "I was right. Sorry to say this, but what about? It was a _long_ day at the hospital today." 

Ashara suffocated her irritation in its crib. _Elia has her own life_ , she reminded herself,  _I didn't spend the past three days thinking exclusively about this, and neither did she, she's an actual adult in charge of saving people's lives._ _Of course it's the last thing on her mind right now._ "It's about..." Ashara lowered her voice. "It's about Ned and Connington." 

Elia's spine immediately straightened to attention, all the tiredness sapped out of her by Ashara's words. "Oh," She set aside her tea. "Oh, yeah...Listen, I've actually been thinking about that, too, and--Ashara, you were-"

"No, no," Ashara interjected. She bounced closer to Elia on the couch. "I mean, as cathartic as it would be to hear you say I was right all along, the reason I came here in the first place was to say-"

"I was right for all the-"

"-wrong reasons, yes." 

"Ah, well, that doesn't make any sense at all, but okay." Elia didn't meet Ashara's eye, instead narrowing her eyes confusedly at her drapes across the room as if they held the answer to Ashara's sudden one-eighty. "Thanks, I guess." She muttered.  

Ashara rolled her eyes and took Elia's chin, forcing her to look back at her. "Keyword 'wrong', Elia. Don't think for a second that I don't want an apology still, to me and Ned. Getting him laid doesn't make up for you using him as your sacrificial lamb." 

Elia went bug-eyed, the effect only magnified by her ugly glasses. "Seven Hells, Connington jumped his bones already?" She exclaimed. Ashara climbed into Elia's lap and covered her friend's mouth with her hands, shushing her like a tyrannical librarian. After Elia's initial panic at having her primary airway blocked subsided and she piped down, there was a long silence where the two women listened intently to the rest of the apartment. One one-thousand...two one-thousand...three one-thousand...In the back of the apartment, Rhaegar went on strumming.

Ashara climbed off Elia to the other end of the couch. 

"I was exaggerating, _sheesh!_ You should know Ned isn't that type of guy, and even he was, Connington is as virginal as any septa that hasn't met your brother." She whispered. 

Elia smiled deviously at that. "You would know?" 

Ashara burst out laughing at the memory of her ill-fated date with Connington. "Kinda, yeah..." She admitted with flushed cheeks. "He gave that vibe off, ya know? And considering he's head over heels for...you know who...I doubt he's got much practice in the dating department. No more than Ned, I'm sure of that."

"I told you he and Ned are a match made in the Seventh Heaven." Elia said with a grin.

Ashara steeled her pride and nodded. "I can see your point now. I had lunch with Ned earlier, and it was...an eye opener." She told Elia what Ned had said, about being glad about being set up like he had been, and about the look on his face when he said that. Elia was more than a little pleased with herself, Ashara could tell.

But Elia Nymeros Martell was nothing if not a more than averagely decent human being, so at the end of it, rather than bragging again, she finally apologized. "Even if things are working out so far, you were right. It wasn't something I should have just sprung on you and Ned or Jon. It was messed up, and I can only be glad that things didn't go up in flames. I'm sorry, Ash." The words were sincere. 

Ashara pulled Elia into a hug. "That's all I wanted to hear." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please do comment and leave kudos if you liked the story, it encourages me to keep on going!
> 
> Again, thank you, Jo! Your help is much appreciated as always and your thank you gift is well on its way. It will be taking place in the same universe as this fic. 
> 
> As for Ungumuda, just want to say thank you for commenting I think on just about every chapter so far! You're a real champ and I really do enjoy your enthusiasm! Same to you, Nara and everyone else who has left comments and kudos! 
> 
> Next chapter will be from Griff's POV~!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment and kudos if you enjoyed the story.


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